


All you have is your fire

by phocahispida



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And Billion Other Tags, Bisexual Female Character, Canon Divergence, Dara Trevelyan, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Fantasizing, Flashbacks, Inspired by Music, Intense headcanoning, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Mage Rights, Mages and Templars, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Own side characters, Slow Build, Soul-Searching, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 20:39:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 64,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4891462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phocahispida/pseuds/phocahispida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long story about a fire mage and a man who are both learning how to live a lives of their own. Slow build of trust, friendship and overcoming differences about mage-templar-conflict. Many flashbacks and very little writing "open" the scenes everyone is (too) familiar with. Amateur psychologist tries to sort through the affects of years in circle, family issues, withdrawal and general angst about regrets, doubts and self-worth-issues.</p><p>Warnings to those who wish to read the same events all over again: some headcanon, canon divergence and own side characters.</p><p>VISUAL REFERENCE HERE: http://phocahispida.tumblr.com/post/135907835207/phocahispida-meet-dara-trevelyan-the</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something in it had power, could barely tear my eyes away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hozier - Arsonist's Lullabye

Someone was screaming. The voices she had been hearing for years now had given up. She remembered feeling relieved that they were gone. The water was so dark and cold. When she tried to kick and flounder towards the faint gleam somewhere far above, something dragged her down with persistent pull.

When her lungs started to ache, she recalled it had been strange: How can you burn inside when you are buried beneath the water? A lassitude captured her body limb after limb and her thoughts started to slow down and thicken.

Something was flashing in her eyes, a glow she did not recognize. It lured her to reach for it, to give up herself for it. It sang and longed to devour her, to let go. A vibrant, green light swallowed her and she faded away.

~~~

Strong arms pulled her out of the water. Her brothers wrapped her into blankets. Her chest was sore and moving hurt, maybe some ribs were broken. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt dizzy. Sunlight was unbearable and she had to close her eyes.

When she peaked cautiously a woman was caressing her. She could not recognize her features because the green light which had branded itself somewhere behind her eyes made her look like a nebulous avatar of love and caring.

_”Mother?”_

She asked and she could feel tears dripping to her face and taste the salt in her mouth.

~~~

She did not know where she was but this green fog around her felt vaguely familiar. Inhuman screams filled the air and the worst monsters from her never-ending nightmares followed her though this abysmal realm. She climbed up a large pile of rocks to see further away.

When she reached the peak she saw it, the embodiment of all terrors. It was reaching for her when she saw a glowing woman that reminded her of something old, almost forgotten. That memory made her follow this divine being as they fled the fiend that was after them.

There was a tear in the sky near them and she tried to help the woman pass through it but the monster was right on their heels and she fell through the tear, alone.

~~~

She felt like she was on fire. It wasn’t an entirely new sensation. She was used to the heat of her fire spells - and getting caught in a crossfire - quite literally. But this was similar and completely unfamiliar feeling.

The burning wasn’t like from a regular flame; It was something you’d think a will o’ the wisp would feel like if touched. Flickering and out of this world. That was her last thought before the merciful darkness swallowed her again. 

    
 


	2. If we're still alive my regrets are few, if my life is mine, what shouldn't I do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Metric - Help I'm Alive

The mark didn’t parch her hand so much anymore. It felt like a recent burn, pulsating and irregularly warm when touched. 

She wished something would ease the pain: When no-one watched she even dipped her hand into a barrel full of icy water. It was stupid but she could not resist the urge. You might assume that the healers, who had treated her with both magic and indigenous medicine had already tried to treat her hand with something cold. She almost cried when she leaned to a corner of an wooden house and tried to hide from everyone, her hand in that damn barrel like an utter mome.

Her mind was just as sore as her palm. She felt dizzy and unfocused. She thought she heard an annoying, quiet buzzing in her ears whenever she could find a silent spot to draw breath. And assuming all the regular visitors in her head quieted for a moment. 

The voices she had learned to shut down almost completely after her teenage years had become furious, whispering out of turn and causing an overwhelming cacophony. They seemed to react to the mark in her hand, like she would continuously cast spells so powerful they almost drained her and caused the voices to react out for her.

She was still tired. No amount of sleep eased this stretched feeling her escapades in the Conclave, whatever they had been, had left in her mind. 

She suspected this mess would make her almost paranoid; Someone was constantly asking questions about her life, faith, the events in the Conclave, accusing, suspecting or defending her. And those were only the conversations she was supposed to hear. Of course she could overhear much more.

Calling her Herald of the Andraste was completely outrageous. Having to fight through demons, suspicious seekers, wisps and cynical ex-templars didn’t actually help. Add almost dying - maybe some retrograde amnesia to that and you have a party.

She’d wandered around Haven, that’s how they called this remote place, originally tied around religion and worship. The place might have been a beautiful, even tedious place of contemplation and traditions but now it was filled with action, uncertainty and worry. Something big was starting and that usually meant some other things had come to their end.

She wished she could just lie down and rest, but… to the Void with that, when had she been able to think only herself? If she kept moving, doing some pointless tasks or talking to the few people who she already yet vaguely knew, she could probably try to avoid facing countless, tiresome inquiries. 

She had no interest in getting thrown into all out craziness involving the Breach and impossible political odds around her. Her efforts to end a conflict between mages and templars did not end well after all. This Inquisition, that’s what the Seeker had called their faction, seemed like another potential failure. 

It would be easier to simply run away. She could dump her burdens and vanish into the night. It might save her from conviction and execution so the idea wasn’t completely lacking sense. She could try to make the most of the limited days of the world - since it seemed to be falling down on its own, without her help or even with it. 

She weighed her options and almost took a step towards the edges of the village when Cassandra found her. It seemed that rest of the leading figures of the Inquisition were ready to meet her. She was afraid she was to receive yet another questioning from Cassandra and Leliana… Not a very tempting idea by any measure.


	3. I don't look for trouble, But trouble looks for me. And it's been waiting around corners, since I was seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neon Jungle - Trouble
> 
> Visual HERE: http://phocahispida.tumblr.com/post/129205924082/phocahispida-meet-dara-trevelyan-the

Cullen waited in the War Room with Josephine. With the Breach and also The Heralds mark stable - or so he had heard, Cullen felt more hopeful than he had felt in days or rather in weeks. Josephine made small talk, telling short stories: he knew he wasn’t the best possible partner for keeping up polite level of conversation. Both of them heard some distant chatter simultaneously, judging by how they turned their heads towards the door.

_”What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?”_

  
 The Herald said and Cassandra commented something about her, obviously questionable, sense of humor before they decided to step in.

The Herald of Andraste, also known as lady Trevelyan of Ostwick walked into their War Room. Leliana had started digging information as soon as they discovered the identity of the sole survivor of the Conclave. She had marched in side by side with Cassandra - they seemed to be on quite friendly terms with each other, especially considering Cassandra did not make friends easily, or at least not swiftly.

Cullen had braced himself for this meeting; He wasn’t sure what role this woman would play in their efforts but the mark in her hand made her invaluable nevertheless. Cullen knew working with him might feel awkward to someone who had been locked in circle for years. So he wore the most genuine and warmest smile he could muster.

_”It seems Leliana isn’t here yet; Some of her scouts came back and she had to hear their reports as soon as possible. I’m sorry for the delay.”_

Josephine said and Cassandra huffed like being late was not appropriate turn of events in her world. The Herald waved her hand, noting it did not matter. Everyone fell silent, waiting for Leliana to turn up and Cassandra to formally introduce them to each other. Cullen caught himself watching the Herald of Andraste; He was curious about her and he had nothing better to do.

Her skin was of darker shade than most of the Fereldan or Orlesian people Cullen had met. The Antivans or maybe those coming from Rivain were more likely to have such skin color. But her hair was red as well as her eyebrows which was an unusual combination to say the least. And her eyes with a leaflike shape had a color of amber, honey or yellow moon. The hue of their irises seemed to change slightly every time a light met them.

A paler shapes resembling wings framed both of her eyes. It was either a tattoo of some sort or a very unique anomaly in pigmentation. A long, old scar climbed up her cheek and ended just below her left ear. There was another scar on her chin and Cullen wondered how she had gotten them.

Her nose wasn't very feminine - if asked from those who had a thing for that sort of categorization. It didn't show when she was looking straight forward but as she turned her head it certainly became a distinctive feature with its size and shape which implied her nose had broken at least once. Her lips under the nose were plump and the lines around her mouth suggested she smiled often, even though Cullen hadn’t yet witnessed it.

She was taller than an average human woman. Not so tall it would be notable but standing next to Cassandra she seemed to be of same height. If Cullen had to describe her body type, which he would detest doing, he'd tell she had quite a lot of curves but her muscles showed under the softness; Her arms and legs seemed to have surprisingly much strength considering the things he knew of her previous life. Not that he knew much.

She had wide hips, relatively small waist and thick thighs. When he checked her out, in a completely professorial manner of course - or that's what he had intended to do, he noticed his mind was wandering quite alarmingly.

Her breasts were plentiful, rounded and mellow and he found it hard to turn his eyes away from them. He noticed the freckles that covered her face continued to her neck as a delicious flock of darker dots until they reached a cleft between her breasts. Josephine cleared her throat and he realized he'd been staring the Herald rather improperly for quite some time.

He blushed slightly and concentrated knowingly into studying her armor and weapons. Though she wasn't actually wearing an armor but a casual outfit that had a jacket and trousers. It was made of luxurious fabric that covered the front and back, embroiled with leaf pattern of some sort and thicker fabric on sleeves and pauldrons. The collar was high but it had a tasteful opening on front. It showed some cleavage and that damn distracting trail of freckles that he his gaze had followed earlier.

The pants seemed to be very thin and soft leather and they matched the jackets color. Both parts of the outfit were finely tailored and the buttons decorating it were clearly valuable. He expected such a grand and well suited attire was Josephines doing. It certainly was a proper suit even for a noblewoman - a dress might have been preferable but this would serve their cause and be more practical in the current situation.

The Herald was leaning to her staff; When he thought about it, he had never see her without it. A long, sharp blade at the top of her staff looked like it had been crafted for it recently. Leather parts keeping the blade on its place seemed new and Cullen wondered whether she had lost her old staff and replaced it or whether the blade had just decorative purposes.

She hid her marked hand behind her hip, like she wanted to keep from others as well as from her own sight. Having something unknown and foreign magic burned into your body, an active imprint that affected the events around you even without your co-operation. It had to be frightening.

There was something in the way she stood and held herself, seemingly serene but every fibre of her being ready to be powered, that gave up she was nothing but temperate sort of woman. She seemed to be prone to seeking action rather than observing. This wait made her uneasy and it apparently drove her to crack a joke to cut the silence.

_"Hey Josephine, you asked me to tell some dirty details about my life in circle when we had our little chat. Could I interest you in a first hand experience of living under templars?"_

_"Of course."_  
  
Josephine answered politely. She gracefully disregarded Trevelyans implications about the Ambassadors earlier inquiry, even though they were likely falsified or at least highly exaggerated.

_"Well how is having sex with a templar similar to a Cleansing Aura ability some Spirit Healers use?"_

The Herald asked a mischievous smile on her face and suddenly looked straight into Cullens eyes. He had to turn his eyes away and could feel the blush, that had just been ceding from his cheeks and neck, to rush back two-fold. Cassandra made one of her signature noises that combined disapproval and annoy together in single grunt. The Herald continued nevertheless.

_"There's no magic, it lasts only a minute and it takes too much stamina."_

Josephine giggled almost involuntarily and looked mortified right after that. The Heralds smirk was smug and Cullen noticed that unlike he, she seemed to be more at ease. Maybe humor was her way of dealing with unpleasant meetings and hardships in life alike?

He felt he should like the Heralds openness and her ability to lighten the mood. What little romantic feelings he had ever harbored for very few woman, they had been more of kind and considerate sort. Even their looks had been less intense - but this had nothing to do with his preferences.

She could be a great addition to their team and in best case a witty yet delightful companion. But something did not add up. His halfway buried "templar senses" were tingling. Had he written a report about the Herald he'd added a large warning on its upper margin saying: TROUBLEMAKER.

Cullen thought he'd warn the templars he looked after about this woman, if he still lived and served in a circle. She was a dangerous combination of edgy beauty, natural and relaxed charm and such a magical charge he'd rarely felt anything like it lingering so ready to be wielded. If somebody could get the young recruits distracted... This kind of woman would be the last thing they ever saw, smiling temptingly and then torching them.

Leliana walked in and assumed her position in front of Cassandra and The Herald. The Seeker introduced Josephine as their ambassador and chief diplomat, Cullen as the Commander of the Inquisitions forces and Leliana, quite blatantly, as their Spymaster.

When Cassandra mentioned his name, Trevelyan changed her position slightly and her knuckles turned white as she gripped her staff. Cassandra brought up their encounter on the battlefield.

_”I’m pleased that you survived.”_

Cullen said but at the same time he realized his words were like meaningless noise. This woman in front of him had formed her opinion about him long before this moment, probably several hours, or days, even months before they ever had a chance to talk.

_”Yes, we've met briefly. And I’ve heard a lot of you, Commander."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit of the joke belongs here:
> 
> http://ageofdragon.tumblr.com/post/84703619707/fem-adaar-mage-and-cullen-just-being-fluffy


	4. People say that I am heartless, I've just learned to use my heart less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neon Jungle - Trouble

She had heard stories, rumors about the mage uprising in Kirkwall.

More importantly she had met a mage whose lover had been made tranquil for some minor offense. And that had not been a single event but a way of controlling the mages with terror. The man never recovered the loss of his loved one and he was so reckless it resulted to his death. This mage had told her about the life in the Gallows. Constant humiliation, sexual violence, maltreatment, extrajudicial investigations and torture were so common it was hard to believe hadn’t you experienced something similar.

Seeing the Commander handling the Inquisition forces, hale, relatively laid-back and even attempting humor made her so angry the song of her magic thundered in her head. This man had at least allowed if not ordered constant abuse of power towards mages. Now he was so damn pretentious, smiling slightly and going for a friendly demeanor…

She let the issue rest until Cassandra had scrambled through the introductions. When the Commander made that frail attempt of humor about her newfound title she stepped in, bursting out the question she had rolled over her tongue for few days now.

_”Talking about impressive titles, how exactly am I the Herald of Andraste?”_

It seemed the poison in her voice had not went unnoticed since the Commanders friendly exterior had started to crumble as he stated begrudgingly.

_”That I’d like to know as well.”_

_”People say what you did at the temple, how you stopped the breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”_

Cassandra explained and they had an awfully long and meandering discussion about faith, symbols, figureheads and signs sent from above. When everyone ended up talking about slightly different things in the process they even took a dive into the semantics around them. By the end of it Dara felt like she had troubles remembering why they had even gathered together.

Nevertheless it seemed that they, or at least Leliana, and possibly Josephine, aimed to use peoples faith and interpretations about her being the Herald and let their beliefs strengthen the Inquisitions status. The headache pounded behind her forehead and eyes when they finally reached the point where they tried to form a strategy for closing the Breach.

_”Enough power poured to that mark…”_

Cassandra started, but the Commander cut her short.  
  
_”Could destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so…”_

Dara grinned spitefully when Leliana interrupted him just as abruptly. These people clearly had no respect over the say of any of them. The Commander crossed his arms defensively and continued.

_”I was a templar, I know what they are capable of.”_

Daras blood was running faster, it raced to her cheeks, fingers and around her body. She figured both Cullen and Cassandra felt her distress as her magic, which had been out of check after she got her mark, roared right under the surface. Even Josephine and Leliana stared at her mark which flickered and pulsated green light.

This was the first time Dara noticed the mark being affected by her emotions or physical stress whereas it had just affected her before. Maybe it was becoming part of her? She could not tell whether the thought was more comforting than it was scary.

_”And I was under the mercy of them for the last decade or so. I know too well what they are capable of. They’re capable of rape, murder and suppression and their commanders aren’t any better.”_

The room fell silent. Cassandra opened her mouth but did not find any words. Cullen clenched his first. He looked pale and suddenly very tired. Dara could not make herself to feel any sympathy for him.

_”I don’t know whether I’m here just for decorations. If so, you have a poor taste since I’m not very pretty and I’m utterly incapable of standing aside. But if I have any saying in these matters, there’s no way I’m running to templars for help. I want nothing to do with them or circles and hardly anything to do with the Chantry either and when this is over I don’t intent to go back into that life.”_

Leliana cleared her throat and continued with her soft and calming yet determined voice like nothing had happened.

_”Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”_

_”And those groups of mages that never officially took part in rebellion, those circles remaining neutral, traditionalists who want peaceful progression and revolutionist who have detested killing and sought refuge far from here.”_

She kept a short break but no-one objected right away so she continued.

_"I know that’s not the fastest solution but I’d like to see Inquisition offering sanctuary especially to those mages who aren't openly hostile towards the templars or the Chantry. I might seem angry and bitter but I’m not senseless. I want peace as much as anyone. The doom looming upon us is bigger threat that anything else.”_

Dara said and both Josephine and Cassandra smiled at her. She felt more welcome than before, now that they knew her position in this matter but had not kicked her out, at least not yet. But then Cullen opened his mouth and Leliana closed her eyes briefly, showing first signs of desperation. She had to know this would end up in bickering and an inevitable clash.

_”The templars could serve just as well.”_

Cullen slanted, stubbornly and lifted his chin.  

_”To the Void with that! The templars you want us to turn to, what are they doing to end this disaster? What have they done in all this time?”_

She was so angry she was shaking and her staff shoot out few sparks from its top. Cullen took a few small steps, backing away from her.

_”They roam the countryside abusing and killing man, woman and child alike if they are mages. They rob and kill even every peasant who has ever offered their help to the mages on the run out of the goodness of their heart. I don't want those zealots anywhere near me! If you only need my mark, hack my hand off and send me to Val Royaux, I’d rather hang straight away.”_

She was breathing heavily and it took a while before Josephine dared to remark that with their current influence neither rebel mages nor templars would open negotiations with the Inquisition; They should try to stabilize the situation in the Hinterlands in order to acquire mounts, resources and to be able to reach this Chantry cleric Mother Giselle they were to seek alliance with.

_”So you two can try to cool down and work together like adults. Andraste’s flaming sword, I thought you were sent to Conclave to take part in negotiations between mages and templars!”_

Cassandra snapped. A cynical smile found its way to Daras lips.

_”Well the diplomacy kind of blew to our face, so to speak. And the lead diplomat of our group lies somewhere beneath that pile of rubble, burnt to unnoticeable clutter. She was a fine woman, you’d be luckier to have her than being stuck with me.”_

_”Work out your differences, whatever they are, but do it fast. It will take few days to get the Herald an armor, collect few mounts for her party and give you a little time to train together. We have to become a team.”_

She was an intimidating sight when she leered at them and Dara saw a glimpse of the woman who had stood next to Divine and solved her problems with deception and blood if all the other solutions failed.

_”I’m sorry Cullen but I don’t see the mages, apparently including The Herald, trusting templars enough to work together, in any foreseeable near future at least.”_

Leliana finished, putting the end to their meeting. Cullen muttered something and left the room.

~~~

Dara sat in the Singing Maiden, sipping some alcohol that stank and burnt her throat. Varric sat with her, writing something down and waiting for the liquid to loosen her tongue. 

_"You know that drives me crazy."_

She started, deciding Varric was probably the most unbiased listener in Haven. 

 _"What then?"_  
  
He asked, and put his pen down.

_"The Commander."_  
  
_"I presume this is not about the unbearable sexual tension between you two."_

Dara snorted and some of that burning stuff ended up into her nose and spilled out of her nostrils.

_"Disgusting. Both this stuff and your implications. But alas, no. I hate to see him basking in the sunlight, thinking he can march away from those lives he destroyed by letting those serving in Kirkwall's circle wreck and kill and turn innocent tranquil. They might have taken the blame and he thinks he got away clean. But overseeing those bastards was his responsibility!"_

She drew breath and continued her rant, letting out all the anger that had dammed inside her. 

_"He thinks he can start over, with a clean slate like nobody remembers his failure as a commander, the way he did not care about his honor or even basic humanity. How can you live after that? I could not. And atoning yourself, or some other poetic shit like that, there's not enough good deeds or sacrifices great enough to fix what he broke or let others destroy. I detest him." ___

Varric thought long before he answered.

_"We all must either die, go insane or try to go on. Wearing all of our failures, anguish and remorse on our sleeve would be stupid; We can't know how much he regrets, how he struggles to go on. At least he tries to make things right this time. So hear the man out, even if you never learned to like him. You'll have to work together after all."_

_"Ughh, Andrastes ass. Fine, I'll do it."_

Varric flinched when she let out the profanity which did not quite fit her shining title.

_"Why do I always surround myself with people... and dwarves who have too much compassion and common sense. What if I wanted to stay angry, bitter and prejudiced, ha? You lot make it impossible around here. Shit."_

 

 


	5. We will not take this anymore, these words will never be ignored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Want a Battle? (Here's a War!) - Bullet For My Valentine

He was tired and sore but for the first time in a long, long year he felt hopeful. He had something to eat every day and lately he’d been able to sleep continuously. The nightmares troubled him still but there was strength and some strange comfort in numbers.

They had been fleeing the templars in this group for months now. Whenever they encounted some smaller groups of mages on the run, they asked them to join in. The lot who was just a handful of mages, trying to survive was becoming a force to be reckoned. It all had started when an old lady had stepped forth and started taking care of some refugees, all from different directions, various circles, even some apostates who had been on the run long before the rebellion.

She tried to get them food from multiple sources: trading handmade things, healing the ill and ailing, selling runes… Some locals pitied them and gave food altruistically but no one wanted to bunk any of them because they feared the templars, quite ironically since they were supposed to protect them. 

When it came to defending themselves, choosing routes, locations and planning defenses Ardor was their woman to go. No one knew her real name or origin; Not giving up your identity from your previous life was common among those on the run. It protected both themselves and the others. Ardor matched her newly given name and she kept them fighting - it would have been pointless to gather food or potions for the corpses after all. 

Ardor used know-how of the apostates when they had to cross some new areas and made mages train each other. Those who had a talent for healing, educated healers and those who mustered storms and lightning like they had never done anything else, edified those who had the same gift.

She showed the qualities of a natural leader, someone who had both the essential knowledge, suitable upbringing and an aptness to assume that role. She tried to lift their spirits and sent letters and messengers to both nobles and those representing chantry. They all knew she hoped to end the rebellion and find a way for the mages to live their lives without constant persecution.

Ardor might have been a terrible leader on her own as her anger pushed through her rationality every now and then. Together she and the Old Lady made a great team of fervor, broad-mindedness and devotion mixed with experience, wisdom and serenity. Most of them agreed they would follow those two anywhere and even kill in their name, whether they wanted it or not.

Everyone belonging into their group knew the discipline had a crucial part in their survival. No unnecessary killing was allowed and they tried to be so smart and careful that they had to fight as little as possible. After all, they hadn’t abandoned children, elderly and tranquil like many other mage groups that roamed the countryside. Those who were most vulnerable, the weakest, the most miserable sought shelter amongst them.

Tonight he saw those poor souls shivering around the fire. All of them had heard that templars were coming. Their numbers were more like around a hundred than dozens of mages if someone asked. And the Old Lady and Ardor knew each and every one of them by name and had promised to save them no matter the cost. But this time templars were to strike with a force and many of the mages were skeptical about their chances. Ardor had a plan. She had moved them to a hill that was covered by forest.

A small group of the mages was supposed to stay right in the middle of the hill and be easily found. Templars would surely send a scout to check out their strength beforehand, she said. So giving an impression of relatively small and weak force could lead to reckless behavior and making mistakes on their part. He had been asked to stay with that group who pretended to include most of their members. Few of them had seen a templar lurking in the woods this morning and right after his takeoff the plan was set to motion.

They were to form four circles. The innermost circle had those who could rise barriers and protect the youngest children, tranquil and those who were too weak to fight. Most of the healers would keep their base there, only some of them would assist those on the field. This circle was located on the top of the hill. Other three circle fell gradually downwards along sides of the hill.

They had searched the woods for days and found most of the trees that were old enough to hold a raging forest fire at bay long enough. If such tree grew on the "defense circle” it would hide two or three mages, one being able to use fire as a weapon - a trait Ardor had restlessly trained as many of them as possible to handle. Those assisting the fire mage would use cold spells to keep the tree intact and protect them from the harm.

Some of the apostates had seen templars trying to reach a rebellion forces in similar locations and they had moved in strict lines, aiming to spot, surround and capture everyone who tried to flee. And this might save them. Their plan was to lure templars between the second and third circle and blow as many explosive fires as possible, set up fire mines beforehand and rain fire onto them. And when they might try to escape the third and fourth ring would stop them with the similar weaponry, strengthened with walls of fire.

Few of the mages in their ranks knew how to use their storm magic for setting up static cages and they were located in the first and fourth ring - to protect those on the top of the hill and to give time for other mages to finish those who tried to keep up attacking even as the inferno raged around them. The rest of them were to stop those who had managed to flee from second and third ring. Their goal was grim but practical; There could be no survivors, hostile to them, to tell tales about this day.

He felt anxious and tried to calm down the children as many of them cried. Their guardians must have leaked their nervousness and fear and now it had seized the smallest of minds too. The fight begun near the edges of the forest. Many of the mages prayed and those who were to protect them assumed their positions ready to slam the barriers on and trap those trying to get nigher to them.

The screams echoed in the forest. They were painful to hear, knowing every scream originated from a human being who was burning horribly, boiling in their armor, charring and turning into a pile of ash. If they went to the farthest edge of their circle one could see the templars running around between the second and the third circle, trying either to proceed or retreat, both in vain. This was slaughter, brilliant and cruel plan of massive destruction and minimal losses. Inhumane trap aiming to torch every enemy inside it.

One templar staggered near their circle but he was so weak couple of mages could handle him without using magic. They tied him down and soon after that the fight was over. Mages put out the fires and examined the forest. They had been able to save the oldest trees in the forest but all smaller plants and trees were burnt and between the weakening flames still trying to break free lied dozens of templars, probably about fifty of them, all scorched to death. The smell was nauseating and the sight unnerving.

A cheer, or a postponed battle cry, erupted in the forest as those returning from the field climbed up to meet them. This was a victory, yet a pitiless bloodbath. On the other hand, the templars had done exactly the same or worse to them given the chance. When Ardor closed in they could see her carrying a wounded mage on her back and few healers hurried to help their very first patient on this battlefield. 

Without saying a word Arbor marched to the templar they had taken as prisoner and kicked the man lying on his stomach to his back with a little too much force. She kneeled beside him and grabbed his chin forcing the man to look at her. He was drawn closer, to see how this would end, to define… he wasn’t sure what he wanted to get out of witnessing this exchange.

 _”What’s your name and rank?"_  

Ardor snarled and sweat from the battle still trickled from her scalp and single drop fell to the templars face.

_”Elman, I’m merely a templar, all the Knight-Lieutenants and Knight-Corporals in our group died in the first wave.”_

Elman coughed and his lips crackled. He looked like he was about to throw up when he turned his head and saw the corpses giving off smoke on the battlefield. When he tired to move he flinched and as he tried to lift his upper body and support his efforts with his hand he collapsed to the ground and yelled. 

Ardors expression softened. She likely noticed the same as he had, that this templar was awfully young, terrified of watching his fellow templars burn - and in great pain. Ardor beckoned and the mage who had been hovering near all this time run to her.

_”Heal him the best you can. He has at least few broken ribs on both sides, a broken arm, maybe mild concussion, several burns, dehydration and probably an early state of traumatic disorder. I can question him more later."_

He must have looked surprised because she squinted and looked at him under her reddish eyebrows.

_”Do we have a problem Kinsey?”_

_"No messere, absolutely not, I’ll get to work right away!”_

He managed to rattle. Ardor smiled at him, and thanked him with apologetic note in her voice.

It was nearly nightfall when she got back, looking even more dirty and tired, after taking care of directing all the injured mages to healers, checking out supplies and collecting personal items from the templars- she said their loved ones deserved to know their sons, daughters, siblings, parents or lovers had perished.

Elman was already better, he could sit and his burns were treated. They'd scar but the healing had started well. He should be careful with his ribs and hand for some time but he could use them carefully. Kinsey felt proud of how his healing abilities had improved. He must have looked like a complete idiot when Adorn praised his work.

_"Elman. I'm glad to see Kinsey here has done such an outstanding job healing you and that you seem to feel better."_

Her voice was soft and Elman smiled carefully. Kinsey felt sorry for him. He was so damn young and green.

_"Why did you come to this forest? What or who was your target?"_

She asked. Elman lowered his eyes and squirmed uneasily but stopped as his ribs protested.

_"We were supposed to kill the mages here."_

Adorn looked him with a disgusted look on her face.

_"All of us, children, old hags and tranquil alike?"_

She asked and Elmans face turned so pale Kinsey feared he'd faint.

_"I never... The children. I did not think. Yes oh Maker - no they could... They must have meant for us to kill you all."_

Elman cried. His narrow shoulders shook and he crouched like he was a hedgehog trying to protect himself.

_"I deserve to die. Our group had no honor left, no purpose, no legitimacy and not an ounce of goodness left. This is not why a became a templar, I swear. Men like this did not inspire me leave my mother, my siblings without any man in the house. I wanted to serve, I wanted to... Andraste preserve me I've failed them all.”_

_"Foul and corrupt are you who have taken my gift and turned it against my children."_

Adorn said and sobs made Elmans body to shudder. Then she took his head between her palms and planted a kiss on his forehead.

_"My Creator, judge me whole: find me well within your grace, touch me with fire that I be cleansed."_

She cited and Elman rose his face and looked at her.

_"You walked through the fire today. Only you, even though dozens of templars aimed to reach us. You survived. You recognized you failed your duty to protect the feeblest children of Maker, those who others would cast aside and violate."_

Elman seemed to consider her words and find comfort in them. Adorn continued.

_"It is not my place to judge you. I'll give your sword and shield back and you are free to go whenever you feel you're strong enough to travel. No harm will come to you as long as you're among us.  I hope you'll find peace and new purpose."_

Elman took Adorns hand carefully, like it could burn him, and changed his position so that he kneeled before her. 

_"I'll pledge my loyalty to you and promise to protect those under your ward as long as I live. If you'll have me."_

A wide smile spread to Adorns face and it made her look much younger and staggeringly beautiful. This outcome was unexpected but it clearly pleased and even touched her greatly. Sun was setting and her skin and hair were like cold and copper, making her look like a flaming goddess.

_"I'll accept your oath and loyalty and hope you'll find your role among our protectors worthy. Rest now, we'll talk later."_

Kinsey felt like something was sifting inside the woman he admired fiercely. The change was subtle yet so consequential it pulled him towards the centre of the events. He couldn't tell why he followed her into the forest but he had to hide behind a rock when a dark shadow parted from the woods, or what was left of them, and stepped next to Adorn. Kinsey tried to stay as still and silent and possible.

_”You are starting to show mercy. There was no room for kindness in your heart few months ago. Only sorrow, anger and vengeance.”_

The Old Lady had appeared next to her, neither Adorn nor Kinsey had heard her, even now when they already saw her but he suspected they both felt that strange, bright aura of hers, like a light was leaking through shutters.

_”Seeing these people running for their lives has taught me there’s no glory in revenge. We all live and die but helping others along the way might, but just might, make this cursed existence worthwhile.”_

Adorn huffed, bitterness circling on the surface of her voice and painted on her features.

_”There’s no growth, progress or chances to nurture, raise any better generation if we keep on slaughtering each other. If any political party would stand up and try to solve this crisis peacefully, I’d put every egg of mine into their basket. Anything is better than this mindless hunt of mages."_

The Old Lady touched her elbow and she sounded more tired than ever before. 

_"You'll be able to take care of your kin without my help soon. I've been in this business way too long, longer than I ever expected."_

Adorn grabbed her arm, and turned to face her abruptly.

_"Don't you dare to leave me running this farce alone! I never asked to carry this weight. I just wanted to be free at last!"_

She let out a small, mournful sound but seemed to accept her defeat while she still protested vocally, muttering under her breath. The weight set to her shoulders and she accepted her burden and let it shape her posture like she knew she had no real choice.

_"You do have a choice to walk away. We can always give up, tell those seeking for help we've given too much already. Sometimes saving the world once is enough. My friend taught me that. But some of us have been forged into vessels of responsibility and greatness. Our lives have shaped those few to lead, and no matter how far they run, the trouble finds them."_

Adorn seemed to consider her words and long silence loomed over them. The last light of the sun vanished and threw a golden halo over the horizon before the landscape hid itself under the dark coat of night.

_"How do you keep going. Isn't it an awfully lonely road to travel?"_

The Old Lady smiled gently.

_"It might be lonely. But if you let people in, those you fight with, share your burdens, rebuild both houses an nations with, could also be like a family. I've seen rocks cry, huge warriors playing with dogs like they were children again, those who never had any friends learn how to care and assassins laying their weapons down and following those they love as long as they'll let them to. This world is amazing, diverse and full of roads untraveled; Forgetting our prejudices open even more new paths for us to discover- it took most of my life to learn that."_

Adorn watched an owl to circle over them and catch its prey from the grass. It let out an exited screech when it was sure to have a successful hunt.

_"Will you stand next to me if we're to have a chance to negotiate? To find a solution, take drastic steps towards the freedom of mages?"_

She asked. The Old Lady nodded.

_"I shall, if you promise to always choose unity over divide, love over hate and to know when it's your time to give over your power."_

Adorn took her hand.

_"I promise to try."_

Those two woman, burdened with either age or the destiny, stood still and Kinsey sneaked away in the darkness of the night.

~~~

They stood on the side of the mountain. An unnatural green glow lit up the valley under them and snow on nearby mountains reflected its ghostly color. Kinsey cried and Elman looked broken. A building in which the Conclave was supposed to be held was nothing but pile of rubble. Large cliffs of the mountain had collapsed in the explosion that had rocked the earth even miles afar from here, in the shelter where most of their group still waited news.

To lose both of their leaders the same day, it was a devastating blow. After such destruction there could be no survivors. They lingered there as long as they could justify it and said their separate goodbyes to those two women who had carried them this far.

Kinsey dropped his staff down and it bounced and rolled downhill, ending up under a bridge and on the ice of the river. He had been jabbing about getting a new staff for months but lady... Adorn had given him that one and it had sentimental value. 

_"What now?"_

Elman asked finally. Kinsey looked at him and Elman found courage seeing the flame that sparked in the eyes of the man he loved.

_"We start from the scratch. Once again like they thought us to do. We'll find a way to survive and honor their memory by doing so."_

They walked away and snow started falling. 

_"Where next?"_

Kinsey asked him.

_"I hear the rebel mages have been gathering near Redcliffe. But I would not trust them. What do you think of this so called Inquisition?"_

Kinsey took a moment to consider and then he smiled, a tired and sorrowful smile but a smile nevertheless.

_"I say we'll find out if it's worth a try. I think Adorn would have liked the idea - at least it's something fresh. A new player on the otherwise stagnant field."_

 

__


	6. But which one am I, the man or the one behind the mask? What comes first, the courage or the fall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Civil Twilight - The Courage or the Fall

Cullen woke up and groaned. His neck was stiff and when the events of last nights War Room meeting came back to him he felt both irritated and ashamed. He had not intended to force his views like that, just to lay them under consideration. But the Herald had irked him into an unusual, defiant frenzy. Like he was a hot-blooded teenager all over again.

He noticed the camp was still silent - everyone else was probably sleeping; His unpleasant dreams had taken care of the quality of his sleep keeping up to its low standards. Something out of the ordinary happened near Harrits forge. Leliana was up and discussed with two men he had never seen before. And they had horses, only five of them but horses nevertheless. Only those who had arrived into Haven by horses had their mounts with them. They had no extra mounts to offer for those who had joined Inquisition later.

The trip to Hinterlands was supposed to secure some horses for their use but Cullen had no idea how Leliana had managed to get these animals delivered into Haven.  Leliana left in the company the men after shaking hands with them, apparently to show them a place to rest and eat after their travel. Someone was already taking care of the horses, tying halters to stanchion, taking away their saddles and other gear and starting to brush them clean one by one.

While watching this exchange Cullen had managed to dress up and he walked closer, curious to see the horses. As he neared he could hear the woman tending horses humming a happy tune. She leaned her forehead against a face of grey appaloosa horse who seemed to enjoy the exchange.

_”Who is a handsome boy. Well you are, aren’t you. Yes, would you like to be mine? We’d have so much fun together. You’d go to places, see the world, meet some gals.”_

The horse neighed shortly and Cullen would have laughed to their 'conversation' if he hadn’t realized only now that this woman, standing merely an arms length away from him was the Herald. In very common clothes and hood on her head she had been almost unrecognizable.

She turned around abruptly and the horses became restless. They stared each other. Two sets of amber eyes weighed each other. The Herald bended over and took another brush from a basket. She threw it to Cullen and winked towards a brown horse with white socks. Cullen started brushing and he felt surprisingly comfortable working side by side with her.

_”So… You traveled some distance to reach Haven. Leliana told me you’re from the Circle of Ostwick?”_

Cullen asked. The easiness of the Heralds movements vanished and she stopped brushing until the horse pushed her hand. She scratched its ear looking bemused.

_”I was born to a noble family of Trevelyans. We had lot of horses, I grew up among them. If you’ve seen any heraldry concerning the House Trevelyan, there’s surely been horses in it. Whenever I was feeling low or faced unfairness or got myself in trouble I’d go to stables to unwind.”_

She pulled something out of her pocket and a tiny half-smile rose to Cullens lips when he realized the Herald had stuffed her pockets with crumbled crackers. Undoubtedly to feed the horses.

_”Ah, old habit of mine. It took me months to stop filling my pockets with treats for horses when I was sent to the Circle. There’s no way a mage could tend the mounts in there. To be honest, I ate all those apples and cookies myself in the end. You should have seen the size of my ass when we got out!”_

She sneered.

_”But yes, I spent ten years in the Circle of Ostwick, give or take. Not the happiest time of my life as you can possibly imagine. And if you could not, the outburst of yesterday was likely to clear it up.”_

Cullen rubbed his neck and stroked the back of his hair. He had no idea what had made him to dig this up when he was supposed to start a pleasant conversation.

_”I’m sorry. The Circle isn’t the most pleasant topic of conversation right now. Or ever.”_

The Herald looked surprised but then she gestured with her hand, like saying it was okay.

_”Hey if we have something in common, we’ve got to use it. Even if its ’ **life in Circle, been there done that** ’, right?”_

Cullen smiled dryly to that.

_”Why did you join the order?”_

The Herald asked. Cullens answer seemed to surprise her and that alone let out she really did not think very highly of him.

They compared the things they knew of templar life, The Herald through her life in Circle and what she had learned from a templar she claimed to have befriended and what Cullen using what he had learned through his own experience.

By the time they had brushed four out of five horses - their hair was clean as a whistle, Cullen had told stories about the templar training, the current political situation, the differences between the Order and the Chantry and dizzying amount of other things. It turned out the Herald was a good listener. She made little questions that made him add to his previous stories and let him speak.

After some time he figured she wanted to keep him talking to have a chance to observe him. What emotions he showed when speaking of certain things, what words he chose to describe divisive phenomenons or how he reacted to the baits she threw to him. It felt like a constantly changing, spinning dance with complicated steps and jumps. It started to make him dizzy. When he was already off his balance, she made the last maneuver of their waltz.

_”What do you think of mages? Are they all a threat?”_

_”I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict. I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it - at times without a cause. That was unworthy of me. I will try not to do so here.”_

Cullen answered. The Herald changed her position so that she could brush the last horse and handed a pile of blankets for him. Cullen lifted them on the backs of the horses.

 _”Well we all have our ghosts. I promised my late friend to keep an open mind. She would be sad seeing that I already failed to do so with you. I’m not saying… well I have no idea what am I saying.”_   

The Herald said and climbed over a fence. She walked towards the inner parts of the Haven so fast he had no chance to think of an answer. Not that he found any words after some time either. He was not sure whether he had passed her test. Had he earned a benefit of the doubt?

_"What do you think boy?" ___

He asked from the appaloosa stallion the Herald had chosen as her horse. It had kind, dark eyes and almost white eyelashes. It pulled his sleeve with its lips and Cullen laughed.

_"I don't have any apples or crackers. If I'd give them to you and make you my buddy, would that help with the Herald too?"_

The horse chortled once and Cullen patted its back.  
  
_"You'd better not propose bribing her with treats when she's around. Not that she could not eat some apples."_

When Cullen left he almost bumped against Leliana. She had returned silently, remembering him that she was still as skilled rogue. A knowing smile lit up her features and Cullen run away from her to avoid unwelcome questions.

 

 


	7. All this time I was finding myself and I didn't know I was lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awichii - Wake Me Up

Now that Heralds party had horses, she waited only for Harrit to finish her armor. Cassandra, Solas and Varric were ready to travel and they were expected to leave tomorrow.

Cullen was training his soldiers and criticizing a recruit for the way he used his shield when he felt someones eyes on his back. The Herald was watching him and he felt like he had to give her some kind of report. He wondered what had caused him to feel like she was his boss. Maybe it was connected to the way she walked around Haven, getting to know their crafting masters, collecting materials for weapons and using their connections for doing that as well as making friends among mages and templars alike.  

She had started running tasks while they waited, helping apothecary and mixing potions with him and discussing the blacksmith about the armors and ways to improve them. As she collected knowledge about their strength and weaknesses it felt like she’d sooner or later turn her apprising glare towards his work. For some reason the thought made him nervous.

_”We received a number recruits, locals from Haven and some Pilgrims. None made quite the entrance you did.”_

He heard himself saying and regretted his words right after they had left his lips. Why he was suddenly unable to form informative and simple sentences, without so many hidden meanings they made his head hurt? When the Herald pointed out she wouldn’t want to go unnoticed he eased a little. 

She looked relaxed and gave him time to think his reply. Somehow it felt valid to tell her, how he had ended up here, why he was talking with her and commanding the army that hardly existed yet. How seeing the flaming point of the mage uprising had made him open to anyone seeking solution to the disaster. After all, he had no idea what would happen shortly after he had joined Cassandras cause.

_”Now it seems we face something much worse.”_

He pointed out as he ended his story.

_”The Conclave destroyed, a giant hole in the sky and a hotheaded mage as your Herald, things aren’t surely looking good.”_

She laughed, as she saw the horrified expression on his face when he realized how his words may have been interpreted. Cullen found his courage and continued.  

_”Which is why we are needed. If the Chantry can control neither templars nor mages - or even decide who’s to be the new Divine, someone has to take care of the Breach. The Inquisition could act now when the Chantry can not. There’s so much we can…”_

He realized he had started preaching and talking vividly with his hands. He had leaned towards the Herald and probably made a fool out of himself, again. He shook his head.

_”Forgive me, I doubt you came here for a lecture.”_

_”No I did not, I came to ask you about the supplies we are to take with us. But if you have one prepared, I’d love to hear it. The commander of the forces has to be passionated about his work, if about nothing else.”_

Cullen laughed, trying to ignore her implications of him being a workaholic, mostly because they were completely true.  

_”Some other time perhaps.”_

Her smile flickered in her eyes. Cullen couldn’t help but to smile back, looking and feeling like a dolt in equal measure. He had not known a pretty face and few nice words would turn him into a chump. It was like the young templar stuttering hopelessly when pulchritudinous mages even talked to him had manifested from dusty pages of personal history. Not that he often had a chance to chat with ladies like the Herald to begin with.

~~~

The morning of their departure was sunny yet cold. The stream rose from the horses and the Herald looked impressive in her new armor. The amount of leather, medal and straps seemed to bother her and she would have been more eloquent had she not squirmed and tried to tuck some fasteners loose.

_”How can one live with a moving prison like this? It’s hard to move and breath and I’ve lost my connection to the world.”_

_”Yeah, feeling the wind between your snuggle pups is categorically essential component in casting spells.”_

 Varric commented and the Herald slapped him to the back of his head. They climbed up to their horses and the Herald was the only one who slid seamlessly to the saddle. Cassandra looked even more disapproving than usual, Varric used some profanities Cullen hadn’t even heard before and Solas’ calm veneer crackled when he almost slid straight over the horse when climbing up.

_”I expect your lecture to be ready when we ride back victorious and covered on the blood of our enemies.”_

She said and changed equally deliberated goodbyes with Leliana and Josephine. Everyone of them was able to tell the Herald could not wait to be on the road. To ride like a wind for the first time in years. The joy flowed in her body and bubbled in her laughter right before she smacked her mouth and her horse started running. She soon disappeared into the forest surrounding Haven.

Cullen walked away and returned to his duties. When he stopped working after sunset and had first moments for his own, private thoughts since the morning, he noticed his mind followed the road, out of Haven and to whatever place the Heralds party had chosen as their camp.

It made no sense, especially as he had only enlighten guesses about the duration of the Heralds tour to the Hinterlands, but he started to count days to their return. 

~~~

When he fall asleep he dreamed of a forest. In the middle of the woods was a hill that was badly burned. Only the oldest trees were standing. They had lost some of their leaves but a new spring would revive them. 

Pieces of templar armor were scattered all over the hill, bones and small, halfway burnt body parts lied buried in the ashes. When he climbed up he saw a woman on the top of the hill. She was ablaze. Her hair and skin were consumed by fire and the sight was both horrifying and fascinating. 

He stepped closer to this creature. When he was to reach her, she opened her eyes. They were the purest amber and as she spoke he understood the certainty of his damnation. 

_"Cullen."_

The creature said. When the all-consuming flames took him, he remembered thinking this satisfaction and fulfillment was worth being burnt.


	8. Here's to never ending circles and building them on top of me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CVRCHES - Never Ending Circles

Cullen dreamed again - and very lifelike dream. Somewhere along the way, after wandering around the empty hallways of this dream lair he had trouble sorting out whether it was real or an endless continuity of already abandoned rooms and long passed scenes from reality. It surely felt real, more palpable than most of his dreams.

~~~

He was wearing a templar armor. It was clean and well maintained. Carrying the armor made him feel untouchable, mighty, powerful as he walked towards a redheaded girl who was wearing mage robes in turn. She was writing something, intense concentration written on her face. The library was empty and smelled like old manuscripts, dried flowers, dust and traces of wet ink.

He grabbed mages shoulder. She got frightened and jumped. When he did not let go of her she tried to writhe herself out of his grip. He tightened his grab and pressed his fingers to her skin so hard they surely left bruises. He let out a low growl, almost muffled sound:

_"I said we’d meet again. Alone. And now you’re gonna pay for the torment you’ve inflicted upon me.”_

She did not show any fear or pain even though he surely hurt her. The defiance written on her features and her undisputed rebellion infuriated him. Her eyes were bright and torrid like gas burning with a clear flame.

_”And here I thought it was your duty to protect the mages like me from ourselves… But also shield us from yourselves. No matter how much we test your resolve, you are to be adamant and just.”_

She had no right to lecture him about his duties. He hit her hard on face. A loud slap echoed in the library. Mages head swung to side and she stumbled as much backwards as she could. She was disorientated and in pain but still clearly attempted to flee, before he jumped down her throat again. He grabbed her hair and pulled so hard few tufts of her hair detached.

He enjoyed the pain of this mage and the way her face got marked by him. He bit her lip from which the blood was already flowing. She tried to bite him back, in order to harm him, as he squeezed her arms in his, leaving contusions on his wake.

He let out a groan as he groped her nether and started to collect the hem of her robes upwards, he tugged and ripped his way all the way up and groped her midst violently. The mage struggled and tried to hit him to face with her forehead. 

The more she struggled against him and failed to escape, the more he wanted to break her. He desired to take her, to ruin her so that she would know not to play with him anymore.

He was getting more and more heated and pulled the lower part of his armor off. He smashed her against the wall while squeezing her throat enough to keep her still. She seemed to be losing consciousness as if she didn’t get enough air. Her eyes rolled around and she wheezed when trying to breath.

She tried to bend his hands away. She scratched his hands. He had already thrown his gauntlets aside and her nails dragged deep, bloody tracks to back of his hand.

Something flashed in her eyes, like a large piece of parched wood had been thrown to nearly extinguished campfire. The impact sent sparks flying around. She dug her nails into his face and gripped his upper thigh. She could not speak but her eyes said it all; **There was no way she’d yield as long as she was alive**.

And then he felt the purest fire blossom from her hands, burning his eyes, nose, intruding his body through his mouth that had opened for screaming. His throat burned, lungs collapsed in the heat.

Yet another attack started in his crotch and burned upwards until the all-consuming pain ended and there was a short moment of purest darkness.

~~~

Cullen woke up. He was gasping and covered in cold sweat. His underclothes stick in his back when he bounced up in his bed. 

The air was cool and he could see the moon. He had grabbed his bedroll earlier that night and moved it outside. Breezy wind and wast sphere of dark sky and bright stars above him usually helped to shake off the nightmares better than anything else. Of course he had not told that to the startled recruit who had stumbled over him when exiting his tent.

He felt like he hadn’t rested at all. When he closed his dry, aching and tired eyes all he could see was the Herald. Face like murder and being assaulted in cold blood, ready to do whatever it took to defend herself, maybe others too.

A nauseating feeling took over him; He could feel his stomach turning around again and again. Had he eaten anything in a long time he would have vomited. He felt filthy and confused, wondering how the projection of such repulsive offense and its deadly results had found their way into his dreams. 

He could not sleep anymore that night and hardly at all in the few nights to come.

 


	9. I'm a wild card, and I'm gonna steal your game, you better watch out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demi Lovato - Fire Starter

It had been three weeks since the Herald left to the Hinterlands when they received a messenger.

She was wearing an armor that a rogue would likely use but anyone sensitive to magic could tell she was a mage. She was tiny, even for an elven woman and her hair was cut short. Her pale skin was decorated with almost black vallaslin. Mage or not she had dual daggers adjusted on her back.

She was carrying a flag. Someone had made an astonishing job decorating it. On black velvety fabric a woman cut out of silvery silk stood her arms open in a welcoming posture. A bright halo made of small gems surrounded her figure. Besides her was a golden woman who had raised her staff in the air, looking victorious. She held a ball of fire on her other hand. The words _"For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water"_ ran around the edges of the flag.

The messenger was escorted to meet only Leliana and Cullen as Cassandra was accompanying the Herald. After long talks they had learned she was part of the independent group of mages, trying to form a peace with templars. They were willing to aid the Inquisition if they would be granted their freedom and suitable positions among their ranks.

Cullen had planned to contact some of the templars he knew personally and ask them to join the Inquisition. Leliana had told him he needed to give something to the Herald in return if he was to get her approval and this seemed as good a compromise as any. He hoped she'd agree.

So he promised, hoping he was doing the right thing, that this group of mages could come to Haven and start integration into their ranks. The messenger estimated it would take the fastest of them two weeks to arrive and others a week more.

 _She'll be here to welcome you all_ , Cullen thought.

~~~

He was right. One day she was back, actually before they had expected the party to return. Cullen heard about their arrival only after she had left to take care of her horse, and that was the last place Cassandra had seen her heading.

Cullen went to look for her, to deliver the news about the mages. He found her from the balcony of the stables where she was napping in a huge pile of fresh hay, straws in her hair and looking damn content. Her horse stood next to her and woke her up with a push of its muzzle. She woke up looking irritated and seeing who had woken her up made her to close her eyes and fall back down. Cullen sat nearby.

_"That rough a ride?"_

He asked and the Herald opened her another eye just slightly.

_"Mmmmm. You read my reports, right."_

She answered and curled up in a ball. Cullen thought that this drowsy woman was somewhat adorable compared to the usual flammable and snarky Herald who had habit of deflecting most of the personal issues.

_"If I see a bear again I swear I'm going to kill it. With my bare hands and make bloody pants of its hide."_

She muttered.

_"I thought you killed a few of those furry rascals already?"_

Cullen asked. He did not care about the bears, dead or alive, but he enjoyed the easiness of this conversation, never mind the triviality of the topic.

_"Well as few as possible. But the sheer volume of them made me feel a little murderous. I had to lurk around like an apostate or even worse, a roque!"_

Her lips were puckered up and she looked like she tried to summon an irritated face but failed. He did not remember seeing this particular expression before and he suspected the Herald showed him more of her personality as they leant to know each other, at least a little, better.

When she pouted, Cullen noticed several small and faint scars under her lower lip. They looked an awfully lot like bite marks. He had not seen them before and the small half-smile died from his lips. He lifted his hand, like he intended to touch the scars but lowered it right away.

_"What happened to your lip?"_

He asked, regretting it by the same token. The easiness was gone and she would not have to say it out aloud but she did.

_"You really know how to spoil a mood. Is it part of your training or are you just a natural?"_

Cullen tried to ignore her piquing and waited in silence whether she'd answer his original question.

_"If you really want to know, these particular scars are a souvenir from one of your colleagues who tried to rape me, judging by his earlier actions he would have continued until I lied there half dead. One of my most cherished memories so far."_

Cullen felt his stomach turning around a little and even though he knew the answer he had to ask.

_"What happened next?"_

_"I boiled him, and damn it felt good to finally give back. It was horrible mess but for the first time in years I felt like I was controlling my own life, body and mind. I had no fear and even though it was a cruel fate I could not make myself to feel remorse. That's what the circle did to me."_

Cullen could see pieces of the dream flashing before his eyes. Violent frames of struggle and pain and death. He tried to find even a trace of his own appalled feelings on Heralds face; She spoke of all this like she had either accepted her past or pushed all the hardest feelings so deep she was astonishingly casual about this.

_"I was sure I'd die for that or worse but it turned out someone was watching after me. It was not a blessing since others paid the price later. I should have taken the blow..."_

Cullen did not ask what would be worse than dying. Sadly he had pretty solid answers for that question readied in his mind. He wanted to say something. To express his sympathies, tell her about the dream - no that he could not do; It felt like he had stumbled into something too personal. How it happened he could not tell. He wanted to say the circles weren't meant to be the personal hells or purgatorial places for whole communities. But what good his words could do?

~~~

A clear blast of a hunting horn cut the air and it made both of them climb down. When they reached the stairs below the gate Cullen realized the mages were ahead of the schedule as well. On the path that slowly lead to Haven, between two mountains, they could see a group of people climbing down and heading towards them.

_"They are early. I thought an untrained and miscellaneous force would move slowly."_

He thought out loud. The Herald shot him with a frustrated glance.

_"You make even less sense than usual. Who are they and are you expecting them?"_

_"They are a group of mages, willing to add to our ranks."_

She looked surprised, almost like she had seen him the first time. She seemed to consider whether she had given him too little credit before.

_"And you approved this? Wonders never cease."_

Cassandra ran to their side. Cullen was grateful he had briefed her instantly about their latest alliance via letters as she hated any unexpected events. Leliana accompanied them as well while they crossed the training grounds and walked down the mountainside to reach the outskirts of the Haven.

Sky was full on clouds that day. They loomed low and hid the mountain tops. Sun shining above them made them glow pale yellow light and the thickest clouds had bluish color, predicting storm to come. Snow had been melting for days. It was relatively warm and trees were bare without leaves or their white cover. An almost snowless hill near them made head of the group vanish for a moment but when they reached level ground again the Herald stiffened and let out a pent-up noise.

Cullen and Cassandra changed looks with each other when they recognized a single man wearing templar armor amongst the mages. Did they have a prison with them, was it mockery or was he their equal ally? Though the latter was the most unlikely option he seemed to travel with them willingly and walked in a front line like he was either leading them or at least close to their leaders.

The Herald tore herself away from the place she'd stood like a statue. She took several fast but unsure steps and then she ran. She was heading straight towards the group nearing them. Right before she would have bumped against the templars armor she open her arms like wings and he lifted the Herald up like she was not a strongly built woman but a little girl. She locked her thighs around his waist and both of them laughed, sounding a little mad as their laughter was halfway there to wailing.

The templar she was clinging on was a towering bulk of a man, easily a head taller than Cullen and he almost resembled a qunari male with his wide shoulders and muscular arms. His beard was orange and his coppery blond hair had been braided from the sides and reached his upper back. He looked young but he had a bearing of a good fighter and he was surely manly enough.

Cullen felt weak and he actually did lean on Cassandras shoulder. She glanced him sideways looking equally wonder struck. The thoughts ran in his head uncontrollably like a herd of scared nugs. Who was this man? How come he arrived with a group of mages? Who he was to her? A brother? A cousin?

The templar took his another had away from the Heralds waist and pulled her into long, immensely overjoyed kiss. She looked surprised but cheerful. So much about him being a long lost baby brother.

 

_"Makers balls, how can you be alive?"_

He asked when he finally broke off the kiss, still looking unwilling to do so.

_"I don't know, I wish I knew. Maybe it's a miracle or a trick of a fate. But here I am."_

They smiled to each other and then the templar clearly remembered something.

_"Kinsey, love! You have to see this!"_

The templar shouted and long yet lanky mage cleared his way through the crowd, looking suspicious until he saw the Herald. The man who'd gotten a name, Kinsey, reached her so fast Cullen suspected he used some sort of unconscious burst of magic. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her thighs. His position was slumped and he cried like he had barely held himself together until this moment. The Herald moved her legs carefully kneeling to face him.

 

_"Is it really you?"_

He asked with a broken voice. Now the Herald cried too but the happiness that had roomed her when she realized she would be rejoined with her friends stayed.

_"It's me."_

_"Did.. Is someone else... Was there any other survivors?"_

They were both regretful after her words. The mage for letting himself hope and the Herald for crushing his hopes.

_"She did not make it. I'm so sorry."_

The mage touched her cheek, looking gentle.

_"It's not your fault."_

_"I wish you were right."_

The Herald said and pulled him up. Other members of the group poured to fill all spaces around them. A mage after mage hugged her, cried, laughed and prayed. She wandered amongst them and kissed the blond woman who had carried their flag and delivered their message.  
   


_"Andaran atish’an!"_

The Herald said, touching her fingers slightly.

" _Vir sulahn'nehn, vir lath sa'vunin_ , _it seems! I suppose you have an interesting tale to tell, emm'asha... We thought you'd prefer us joining the Inquisition over seeking help from those in Redcliffe. And here we are."_

The messenger said. She was clearly pleased either of her making this decision or seeing the Herald alive. Likely both.

_"And here I am. Well done. Great minds think alike!"_

They laughed for a long while. The Herald touched the flag and her expression was filled with sorrow and unusual sort of humbleness.

_"It's beautiful, da'mi."_

She said quietly and smirked playfully.

_"I take that you missed me?"_

An unreadable expression passed the elfs face.

_"Yeh, what do you think. You had better never do that again!"_

The Herald hugged her and squeezed her back.

_"I'm sorry for losing the elder. She had great wisdom and an unusual guide carrying her this far. Halam'shivanas, but still a bitter pill to swallow."_

The elven woman said. Cullen coughed, trying to get Heralds attention.

 

_"I'd say you owe us some introductions."_

The Herald turned around and he had a feeling she had forgotten their presence for a while.

_"Oh of course!"_

The templar bowed slightly, measuring Cullen.

_"Nice to meet you, Lady Seeker, Sister Nightingale and... Knight-Commander? Elman Hammons in your service, with all my heart since you've chosen so extraordinary company."_

He said. Cassandra nodded and introduced her as Seeker Pentaghast. Leliana noted that se preferred using her given name since the death of the Divine. Cullen felt irritated and deceived, even though the Herald had been the most oblivious party in this whole coincidence.

_"It's merely the Commander, I'm no longer part of the Order but in the service of the Inquisition."_

_"Kinsey Marchman, we've been sharing the leadership of this group with Elman and Isela. We learned the hard way that even two leaders is too few leaders."_

The elven woman stepped forward. She bowed slightly, it was almost a nod but still a very respectful gesture.

_"Isela, the voice of the elven and women in this motley crew. Given the latest development I'm positive this will work out nicely. I trust very few shemlen but she could be like the Hanal'ghilan for us all."_

She took Heralds hand and Cullen wondered how she had ended up wandering around with mages, elves and a templars, all fused together. Leliana smiled to her statement.

_"I believe so too."_

They shared an understanding smile and Cullen felt irritated, as he felt he was missing integral parts of the conversations.

 

_"Forgive me if I sound tactless but when we might be allowed to meet this Herald of Andraste everyone has been talking about?"_

Elman asked. An unexpected noise filled the air; Leliana was laughing. Cullen furrowed his brows and said dryly:

_"You exchanged quite passionate greetings with her holiness just a moment ago."_

Elmans face turned white and then red and white once again. It was an interesting spectacle as it was. Cullen suspected he felt especially spiteful towards him and enjoyed his distress more than the others and more than he should have. Kinsey howled and hugged his waist with one arm.

_"Took you long enough! How many female mages who have survived the Conclave and being presented in the company of the leading figures of the Inquisition do you see here?"_

 

The Herald measured both of the men with her gaze while they climbed towards the Chantry of the Haven.

_"Have you boys _already_ taken the next step when I've be been gone?"_

Kinsey blushed and Elman squeezed his hand. They had reached the gates and Kinsey and Elman stood one stair higher than the Herald and Isela.

_"Show me!"_

She demanded and Kinsey leaned towards Elman in order to give him a passionate kiss. They formed an arc of love, friendship and liaison, Isela and Herald standing under that arc, still holding hands and looking amused. Sun bursted through the clouds and lit them up.

The sight was very unusual, no doubt. Three mages, one templar - three humans, one elf. Friendship and relationships forged in the fires of war. A man kissing another man, templar answering to a mages kiss and two woman of different races and origins rooting for them. Cullen suspected he'd remember this moment as long as he lived and others around him looked touched as well.

_"I told you she belongs to the Inquisition."_

Cassandra said. And when they had to decide the fate of the Inquisition in months to come they all remembered this same moment of happiness and hope.

 

 


	10. But don't you come here and say I didn't warn you about the way your world can alter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Aid Kit - Lion's roar

The air in Haven was chilly and snow kept falling from the sky. The Herald had been having a heated debate with some Chantry sister near the Gates. They did not get along very well and Cullen had been glancing to their direction as he oversaw recruits. He had no idea what he could do if the Herald decided to blow the sister up or burn her eyebrows but he still monitored the situation.

Mother Giselle was one of the few people in the service of the Chantry the Herald liked. Not without a certain wariness but she had convinced her that they had enough common ground to work together. That alone was a shining testimony of her talents in both diplomacy and being a cleric. The Herald had once said to him that many of the other sisters and clerics irked her so badly she tried to avoid them as much as possible.

At least the Herald and the sister she had been discussing, or yelling, with seemed to finally reach an agreement. The Herald turned to walk further away from the Gates when she noticed Cullen and smiled at him.

_"Commander, walk with me?"_

She called out and Cullen must have seemed so surprised that it redeemed a laugh from the Herald. Her laughter was something Cullen genuinely liked about her. It was a noisy and joyful sound with more than a hint of mischievousness mixed in its tone. 

_"Where are we heading?"_

Cullen asked and offered his hand for her. The Herald slipped her arm around his and an unusually intense gust made her coppery hair fly to her face. She rarely kept her hair loose and Cullen caught himself wondering how they would feel against his skin.

Her hair was on warriors ponytail most of the time and the sides were shaved. Every single hair was thick, almost like horsehair. When she opened her common hairdo it seemed like she had enough hair for two woman even as her sides were short. She noticed his stare and quickly fastened her hair.

_"Damn impractical, this sort of hair, I know... but keeping part of them long must be some sort of sentimental foolishness, a nod to more peaceful days with my family and surrounded by beauty and profusion."_

She looked almost embarrassed and Cullen could not remember seeing her like this. He touched a wisp of her hair and she looked flustered. 

_"We should allow ourselves some vanities and treasures with only sentimental value. Such as your beautiful hair. Otherwise life easily becomes a gloomy race against time and we drown under all the craziness around us."_

Cullen said and noticed he did not follow his own advice well. His life might have meaning when it came to achievements or fulfilling his duties but it had very little joy or happiness in it. That he did not wish to share with the Herald though.

They kept on walking and silence between them was not as cold, hard and rugged around edges than before. The constant fear of imminent, violent end to their exchanges was missing and Cullen almost enjoyed her company.

_"We received a letter telling the last part of my... I mean Elmans, Kinseys and Iselas group is approaching and I felt like I wanted to welcome them to Haven without all the recruits and ex-templars ogling them. And if something goes awry, you can be my Commander in a shiny armor and show those causing trouble who's who around here."_

She said casually, like they had a habit of strolling around the uninhabited parts of Haven together, and fight triumphantly against groups of rebel mages, templars gone crazy or bandits whose numbers and real intentions were unknown.

_”We are doing what?"_

He grunted. He was still silently happy she had asked him to come along, instead of dragging her accursed templar friend or some of her the newfound mage followers with her. It puzzled him but his self-searching was interrupted when the Herald patted his arm reassuringly.

_"We are going to be fine. And now we are **there**."_

"There" seemed to be a small mound next to the road leading to Haven. Standing on it they could see far but not be seen when approaching Haven. Woods standing on both sides of the road provided few convenient trees for them to peak through and yet find cover. 

Cullen nodded his silent approval for her choice of location and reminded himself she had survived in the wilderness and in the middle of chaotic fighting between mages and templars for quite some time before becoming the Herald. And worked as a commander of her own force moreover. She had to be both skilled fighter and clever enough to hide and choose her routes carefully in order to do that.

The Herald raised her chin and breathed through her nose. 

_”There’s a snowstorm coming. Let’s hope the mages will reach us soon.”_

They stood in the freezing wind that truly had that special scent of closing winter storm in it. The storm had been on its way for days but now it was almost over them. Cullen shivered and he realized he’d been so distracted by Heralds request to accompany her he had left his usual overcoat lying on a stanchion near the training grounds.

His hands were even colder than usual. Whereas he once had a good resistance for cold, nowadays his fingers and toes had a habit of freezing due to withdrawal his body was going through. He tried to sink his hands into his pockets as his thin gloves did not help too much. 

The Herald was wearing only her light blouse and trousers but she was covered with an impossibly warm looking, woolen cloak that was so long it touched her heels. The cloak had a sizable hood and it was embroidered with pictures of mountains, flowers, falcons and grand horses. Its color was deep green with a shade of turquoise. It was still a fine piece of clothing but with closer inspection one could tell it had been worn for years. For what it was worth, its owner had taken good care of it. Cullen suspected it was part of the Heralds personal property Isela had taken care of and given back to Herald when she found out she was still alive. 

She saw him glancing her cloak and smiled a knowing but otherwise unreadable smile. Then she opened the brooch that kept the cloak closed. It was made of serpentstone and shaped to resemble a horse head. The Herald handed the cloak over to him. Cullen stepped back and made rejecting gestures with his hands.

_”I can’t take your cloak, you’ll freeze!”_

He tried to oppose but the Herald stepped next to him and continued her motion until she was behind him. She rose on her tiptoes and set the cloak on his shoulders and turned him carefully around to fasten the cloak with her horse-head brooch.

_”Well here we stand, the most hardy Free Marcher on this side of the Waking Sea and a Ferelden who is unnaturally vulnerable to cold if not buried under a pile of blankets.”_

She teased and viewed him like she had wanted to see how he looked in the cloak that he assumed to be something she associated with her family. Then she cupped his larger hands into hers, like it was the most natural thing to do. Cullen stared at her as she spoke. Heat was spreading all over him, from both the cloak she had warmed with her body and her unnaturally warm hands into his palms and fingers.

_”Can you hear them singing? The wind carries their voices. They are both afraid and full of hope. Maybe the fighting will finally stop? Will world will be whole again? Could it help if hey can show their worth to the world and take part in shaping the history? One day they could have children and raise them like everybody else does, without prisons and no-one treating them like filth. These last ones to arrive are the grandmothers, mothers and children, those who nurture and create the future. Can you hear them chanting as they march, can we give them hope?”_

She asked and let his hands go. The Herald pulled the cloak around his hands and climbed down from the mound and walked to the direction she had pointed out. And yes, mages were approaching them, small, black insects in the wast landscape, trying to outmatch the falling night and rising storm.

Cullen rose the hood to protect his head from the wind and suddenly the scent was all around him. 

It was both exotic and familiar. Fruity-sweet blend like some dessert or foreign drink you could end up having in your glass when attending grand parties. It had top notes of common rhubarb and pink pepper which you could find in most kitchens. Some fruits he had barely tasted added edgy odor to it, the fresh but not acrid scent might have been from something like a kiwi.

The aroma was so stunning it caught him off the guard. Like especially delicious food in the middle of dire circumstances, heartbreakingly beautiful song starting to play in the midst of sorrow or sudden, striking scenery when the road had been long and journey felt pointless. 

The Herald was so far away she could not see him clearly and so he pressed his nose against the hood and inhaled the fragrance.

When it got deeper he could smell garden flowers blooming between those sharper notes. They smelled like summer day: sitting under cyclamen and jasmine, eating watermelon when the sun was high in the sky and birds were chirping in harmony. Cullen closed his eyes and could almost see The Herald in the Marches, playing in the garden with her siblings, her golden brown skin shimmering in the sunlight and her heart full of joy. 

The perfume wasn’t screaming clichéd feminine features, but neither was its user. Its combination was creative and different, almost experimental like the free-spirited woman wearing it. 

He drew the scent in like he wanted to get intoxicated. The base of musky odor, sandalwood and some citrus woods found him, like a forest or orchard was growing nearby and letting its earthy whiff mix with more distinct odours. Their combination was seductive and intriguing and he had to pull the hood away in order to clear his head.

He squinted and saw the mages had almost reached The Herald and their encounter was joyful. Many of the mages hugged the Herald. Even from this far away he could tell this was a reunion these mages had not expected to happen any more than those who came before them. They took their time to embrace each other before they started to climb upwards.

When they approached him he felt stupid in his borrowed cloak, though he was at least as resistant of leaving the warmth inside it. The Herald did not ask for her cloak back, only offered her arm as they escorted the mages up to Haven. Her smile was radiant and she looked over her shoulder every other second, shouting questions and answers to those who had come back to her. Most of her words were swallowed by the howling wind and finally she gave up.

The storm was upon them and when they managed to reach the training grounds blizzard raged all around them. It turned out the Herald had snatched his coat on her way to the Haven Chantry, probably to secure it from being buried under piles of snow. Cullen noticed it only when they had finally housed all the mages. He was about to comment their trip and point out it could be seen as a timely rescue and considered to be another of the Heralds miracles.

But he forgot all the smart remarks of coincidences or wonders altogether when he saw a familiar piece of clothing hanging on her shoulder. An almost guilty smirk lit her face. Cullen couldn’t help but smile back; She had been burying her nose into the fabric and sniffing it before he caught her in the act. 

 


	11. Looks like a girl, but she's a flame so bright, she can burn your eyes, better look the other way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alicia Keys - Girl on Fire

They had been sorting out the situation in the Hinterlands, going through Heralds reports and wondering what was waiting for them in the Val Royeaux. The meeting lasted whole evening and most of the night. And yet Cullen wanted to discuss matters regarding Inquisitions forces before he could go and try get some sleep. It was getting dark and few more candles would have been mandatory, had they planned to stay for long.

Leliana and Josephine left the War Room and closed the door. Cullen prepared himself for presenting his ideas when The Herald stepped closer. Her golden eyes flickered, a hidden flame dancing in them and disappearing over and over again. She looked feral, anticipating, very aware of her charm and they way she pulled him towards her. Her expression was exceedingly predatory as she grabbed his coat. 

She slid her fingers under the neck of his armor and shirt and continued her search until she found his collarbones. She hummed a little and caressed his skin, scraping it a little as her fingers moved on. Cullen was breathless when she came ever closer, pushing her body against his and explored his neck and throat with the point of her tongue. The moist and gentle circles left such a strong after burn to his skin he had to close his eyes. He could feel her lingering around his scars, like she wanted to map them, memorize them.

The Herald pushed him further and he had to take few steps backwards. She wedged him against the War Table. Cullens hands were shaking as he tried to position them, to be able to support him against the table. The Herald was biting his ears and it hurt a little but he did not care. His blood thrummed in his ears and he could feel it rushing to his face, chest and groins.

The Heralds nimble hands followed the lines of his armor and suddenly she grabbed his swollen cock. He jumped a little and the Herald let out a breathy laugh before yanking all the layers of his pants lower. She struggled with them for a moment and smiled mischievously when his cock almost jumped out of them. She gripped it and slid her hand carefully so long she'd caressed almost the entire length of it.

Her moist lips wrapped around the head of his cock and she sucked a little. She moistened him and rolled the top in her hand few times, until Cullens legs started tremble and his knees bent a little.  She took all of him into her mouth couple of times. She sucked firmly and the head of his cock pushed the back of her throat. The warmth of her mouth felt like he’d been partially in a hot bath and when she stopped the feeling was also similar to leaving the bath when coldness took over and he would have lingered in forever.

Then she started to suck and rub the the top at the same time as her other hand worked his length in a steady pace. Cullen moaned and let out unintelligible noises as he could not keep them back anymore. He could feel his cock becoming even harder and its glans tightening before...

She stopped and looked at him, hair a little messy and almost cruel smirk lingering on her features. 

The Herald continued, slowly rolling her moistened hand around the glans and Cullen started to feel frustration setting itself into his body. When she squeezed his length and started to pump him he almost shouted. He was so ready but somehow he knew she'd continue tormenting him all over again. It was such a sweet agony; His whole body was tense and waiting for some release. She worked him in rounds and just as his cum was to spurt out she discontinued, slowed her motions and lightened the force she used.

Cullens shirt was glued to his skin and he could tell his face was red and drops of salty sweat ran into his mouth. She started yet another round and Cullen threw his head back. He became aware of the small jerking movement his hips made, trying to end this pleasure that was its own form of torture. He was hers to exploit as she wished at this point, and damn that she knew it.

She took his cock fully into her mouth again and sucked him in a deliberately slow manner until Cullen opened his eyes and watched her work. Seeing her like that, his twitching penis sunk between her lips and those fiery sparks shimmering in her eyes, it drove him crazy. He grabbed her hair and started fucking into her mouth, carefully and waiting for her reaction. 

She let him continue until he was almost ready again. But then she pulled herself away. Cullen groaned his objection. This time she did not keep a pause but pumped him, still sucking and caressing his top by hand in turns. He could only watch her hand and mouth to move in seemingly never-ending waves. His cock was almost painfully sensitive and its veins stuck out like never before. Its glans was swollen on its edges and almost purple, meatus opened to release and the highest top palely pink.

When Cullen came his legs almost gave up. His semen spurted out, spraying all over to floor and to the lap of the Herald. An involuntary moan escaped his mouth as all of his features united to reflect his satisfaction.

Cullen was panting but the Inquisitor milked him even further. He begged her to stop. But she kept on until another, desperate and forceful climax rocked his body. 

~~~

Cullen woke up in his own bed. His erection was so strong it was painful, the need throbbing everywhere in his groins. Small drops of cum had poured out. He had to bite his pillow to remain even relatively quiet when he took himself into hand. Only few jerks were enough to made him come. 

He lied awake in the darkness for a long time, wondering why and how this woman, with whom he constantly bickered and who habitually brought up the more or less literal demons of his past, had started invading his dreams. 

At least these dreams, filled with pleasure and all-consuming lust were better than constant nightmares. But seeing heated and randy dreams at night and working with the Herald in daylight felt awkward. Like he abused her by using her as a fuel of his fantasies. 

She had not permitted such thoughts, though she had a habit of teasing him mercilessly with her body language and implications. However Cullen had thought no woman could throw him off balance like this, since he was not a libidinous teenager or raw recruit anymore. He was supposed to be a seasoned fighter and in control of his body yet his mind wandered like never before; Like it was trying to set him up and leave his body unattended, leading to imminent lapses and humiliation at some point. 

He cringed, hands sticky and feeling his cock twitching hopefully as his mind flashed remnants of the dream in front of his eyes.

They said she was the Herald of Andraste. Holy and chosen. For some reason his mind had chosen her to be the one he desired. And even the Heralds vivacious, dominant and slightly wicked personality pushed through the veil of his consciousness and resolve, making the dreams feel both unnervingly real and disconcertingly dirty.

_Maker, this will ruin me._

 

 


	12. Don't look into the eyes of the world beneath, you'll fall down, become their sacrifice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evanescence - Only One

It was too much, struggling every waking hour to fulfill all those hopes, aiming to hold up a presence others wished her to assume. 

She was not good at being what others suspected her to be. The very core of her being fought against it. It had started at birth - when it turned out she was a mage, the plans made for her future crashed down. In the circle she did anything else but excel at being an obedient mageling. And when in freedom, she was always too rash, too quick to judge.

When some of her fellow mages had started staring her longingly she pushed them away. She had nothing to give, no gentle feelings or love to nourish as she could not think herself worth loving in a first place. She had desired to find out who she was, what she wanted, whom she could become. Maybe then she could let others in?

But now it felt like she was once again a piece on the game of someone else. She had days full of endless demands and nights filled with endless dreams. 

Her slumber was replete of realms and times she did not recognize. Vast, long forgotten cities with tall, inhuman shadows dwelling on, unable to leave these rooms, songs sang in foreign language, skilled, invisible hands painting huge murals, scent of plants she had never seen awake lingering in the air. 

And somewhere, on the corners, near the borderlands, out of her field of view was a wolf. She rarely saw it but she knew it was there. She had tried to catch it, to speak to it but it merely looked her, like trying to figure out how she had stumbled into its domain and why she kept on coming back.

There was hardly ever real colors in her dreamworld anymore: reds and blues were gone, as well as all the shades of grey, only yellow endured sometimes. But otherwise ghostly green, the familiar flickering shade had fallen over everything, like her mark ruled, twisted the scenes and decided where she wandered whenever she let go of herself and fell asleep. 

She wished to see her old dreams, revisit those places and events she had dreamt of since she was just a girl. She longed to dream of her family, friends or loved ones. Even though they were painful dreams most of the time, filled with loss and sorrow, there was also happiness, familiarity and something that was entirely hers, part of her history, her essence. And now it was taken from her too.

There was no home for her, nor a place to rest. The one soul she could truly be herself with was Ghost, her horse. It reminded her of the childhood days, being the only girl, often playing alone or trying to succeed in the climbing, fighting and riding alongside with her brothers. And those few tears of loneliness, disappointment or uncertainty she let out, she cried in the stables where no one wanted anything more from her.

This feeling of not belonging had eased for few moments when she reunited with her friends from the recent past. They had been outcasts, second rate citizens for their whole lives but for some time they had been that together. 

Besides of fairly fresh loss shadowing her mind sometimes and having to strive constantly in order to survive, she had been truly happy amongst her kin. When they found out she was the Herald of Andraste, she was alone again. A freak, an idol, an outsider yet in the centre of the events.

Just to be treated as a regular human being would have been enough. Of all the people she knew, only Varric gave him that, a chance of being a person, not a hero or the chosen one. To him she was Dara Trevelyan, not a solution, an object or an asset to forge, to be fitted to the Inquisitions or someones personal purposes and wield when needed. 

And strangely enough the Commander, he did that too, maybe not deliberately but did nevertheless. He seemed to remember she was a human, a mage and an annoying person. Judging by his occasionally heated gaze, he also noticed her as a woman too. When others treated her as the Herald os the Andraste, who happened to be human as well, the Commander clearly had trouble remembering that she was anything but a woman who was likely to doom them all.

Had she known, she wished to be judged unfairly o _nly because she was a mage_ few months back she had laughed. But now overcoming merely that sole issue looked, well, minor. Carrying the weight of literally the whole world - that she had not foreseen either, when she closed the door of the circle behind herself and saw the outlying arc of the sky clearly for the first time in ten years.

~~~

She was heading towards the Val Royeaux and every mile she traveled made her more anxious. She did not know how she would handle an angry mob attacking against the Inquisition and mages in general. They would undoubtedly challenge her role as the glorified presentative of Andrastes will. It did not suit their cause, even though there were masses of those needing religious figureheads in these dark times.

She had run out of fight, which had happened never before. Many of her friends lied dead, scrambled among the ruins of the Conclave. It felt like her will to keep going on lied somewhere beneath the rubble as well; The Summit was supposed to be a turning point, her way out, beginning of the peace talks. But instead her body was marked presumably forever by a magic no-one understood. And now, a noblewoman who did not remember how to deal with Orleisans with glorious families, but understood those poor and castless neither, was thrown to wolves alone, barely alive and out of her element.

When she reminisced that journey afterwards, she could say that on the road leading to the Val Royeaux she was closest to giving up. Not even when she fell to the Void itself, when her heart broke all over again or when she walked to face a dreadful enemy alone, with no hope of survival, she was not as desperate as then.

She could also say that the nobles of Val Royeaux and those representing the Chantry there saved her. And only because they were as hypocritical as they were poseurs of superficial grandness, whereas they truly tried to close the horrors of the world outside their clean walls and curtains embroidered with gold.  

Those ignorant, sanctimonious twats, who walked staring their shoes rather than recognizing there was an all-intercepting tear in the sky. They bickered over the power and titles and all things mundane, pretending the world was not crashing down around them. A big rift appearing in the middle of their precious, shimmering mirage of safety would have served them right.

When they were informed the templars were in the city to protect people from _them_ , not only Cassandra feared she’d literally explode but she was afraid of going out of control too. After all the shit she’d been through and regardless of all the struggle and pain this path would surely take her, they were afraid of _her_.

The people of Val Royeaux surely spoke for some time about the Herald of Andraste, storming the main square of the Summer Bazaar and making Revered Mother Hevara see the righteousness of her cause as her ethereal fury was visible to everyone who was not completely blind. And the story told, even a blind man serving one of the merchants had felt her presence several yards away. Only some of them cared to mention the Revered mother had accused her of murdering the Divine before the templars struck her down.

Neither did they sing songs about Lord Seeker Lucius calling the Herald a fraud and a puppet. Their stories did not include him blaming Cassandra for being a power-hungry heretic. His pompous monologue about the honorable yet undermined struggle of templars did not find its way into history books as an especially inspiring tale, as the templars fell and their Order was nearly destroyed soon after.

Well, the truth of that day might have been uglier than those writing the history wanted to admit. But even the most tidied up versions of the events hold one, shining spark of truth and that was _the Heralds fury_. The hot air she glowed and the fervor many claimed to have felt. Her anger was back. As so many times before, if nothing else made her surge back into the frey, furore building inside of her and indignation burning high in her veins did it.

All she had was her fire and that day it burned like a shining beacon.

 

 


	13. Because I hate who I was turning out to be but I'm sure that this will not be the end of my suffering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alive Like Me - Start Again

It was late afternoon in the Haven and Cullen had escaped the harsh freezing conditions into the Singing Maiden. In a large corner table the Herald was talking shit about templars again. She was accompanied by her mage-friends and Sera, a quirky elf Herald had recruited in the Val Royeaux. The newest roque of Heralds party had commented about the situation between rebel mages and the Order. As a side story she told everyone how they had found several mages slaughtered on the road when traveling back from Val Royeaux.

This topic had made the Herald, who had been otherwise relaxed and a little tipsy, seemingly angry and so she had ended up rehearsing why the templars had failed fulfilling their duty. Sera clearly did not care much for either templars or mages but she seemed to like the Herald well enough to hear her piece out. When the Herald described the mages they had found she claimed she could still smell the stink of a spell shatter in the air surrounding the corpses. It was stupid - like no-one could smell things like that! She clearly tried to pull him into the conversation with such incorrectness' and throwing him very unsubtle glances.

Cullen's most radical withdrawal symptoms had eased in the passing months but some of them still lingered and came back occasionally, leaving him to suffer muscle aches, sweatiness and anxiety that made him restless. Not mentioning the headaches which felt like he’d actually die. Today he was in no mood to take any sort of crap from the Herald or from anyone. She could be a delightful companion and they had been having very civilized discussions after her return from the capital city of Orlais but when she had these kind of bitter backlashes he tried to avoid being near her.

Maker knew he had his own doubts, regrets and pain after the things he’d gone through, done and let happen. He might been able to discuss them with someone he trusted entirely, if he’d been well, which he clearly wasn’t. But the Herald kept on pushing, wanting some kind of confession from him. Probably to note that he could never get an absolution or closure; Whatever he did and despite of what kind of man he was trying to be or become, he could not atone any more than he could change his past. He acknowledged it, even though it was harrowing to go on, struggling every day yet knowing his past would always shade his character and creep into his most hidden dreams.

He had to strive in order to push himself out of the chair and stand up. His palms were sweaty and every muscle of his body trembled. He could not stay, as his heart was racing so hard it tried to push itself out from his chest. This was undoubtedly the worst episode he had undergone since the Conclave explosion. He rushed out and headed straight towards his tent. He needed to lie down before he would pass out or vomit all over the Haven. This was pathetic, to think he would be able to do what others could not, to think he’d have more strength, to think he deserved to be free when many of those more worthy…

~~~

Sera spurted her ale on the table when she told her about the way they had pranked one of the high-ranking templars in the Ostwick circle. She and the Adrien, so many days and months, even years ago it was like in another lifetime. Maybe it was. A loud knock drew her attention towards the table in which the Commander had been sitting alone. Few of his recruits had been pondering whether they had the courage to join him but now it was too late. He departed quickly but she had time to notice he did not look so good. She felt a momentary touch of quilt for adding to his trouble with her attempts to annoy him.

_”Are you offended if I go to check out something?”_

Dara asked and Sera laughed.

_”Pffft, hardly. You take care of the one who commands other sticks in the mud around and I’ll go gabbling to that pretty face serving the drinks.”_

_”You do that, let’s do something fun together soon, shall we?”_

Dara winked at her and Sera threw her legs on the table and leaned so far backwards in her chair Dara thought she had broken the chair had she done the same.

_”You bet, with your roundies and wit we can do, I dunno… anything. See you around Bon Bon!”_

~~~

She opened the flap of Cullens tent carefully, letting the light in only slightly as she slid herself in. He was lying on his side, legs curled against his midriff and shivering even though he was still wearing his coat. He had tossed some smaller parts of his armor on the floor which seemed to be highly uncharasteric for such boringly diligent man.

_”I suppose you’re not having the worst hangover the people of Haven have ever witnessed. So are you getting a cold or is it something long-term?”_

She asked. Cullen wanted to snark something back, ask why she cared or did she even care at all. Was she here to mock him, to tell he’d deserved all his misery. Somehow he knew it was not the case. The Herald might be many things but she was not cruel. Either way, he did not wish to share his struggles and face her reaction. Would she consider him a reckless fool risking their cause? Or think of him to be suicidal and unstable, a pitiful creature trying to push his demons away with two hands when they were already gnawing his very core.

He’d been silent for a while and he had to open his eyes slightly to see, whether she was still there. She had crossed her arms and waited for his answer though she was getting all fidgety, closing her marked hand into a fist and opening it again.

_"Well fine, don’t share. I guess you have no reason to trust me with your secrets.”_

The Herald said, almost hiding a hint of being offended under the tone of rationality and indifference. Cullen opened his mouth but shut it as he had no words. She was at least partially right as he had trusted his burden to only one person and for a time being he thought it would be best to keep it that way.

_”Commander, what you do if you don’t have all the information there is but the situation needs to be solved anyway?”_

She asked and he answered almost automatically, trying to follow her line of thought or even predict her next move.

 _”If you can’t gather the missing information fast enough you do your best with the facts you have, play it safe and limit your working into those actions that will less likely cause damage if you’ve misread the situation due to imperfect knowledge._ ”

She smiled, and slipped out, leaving Cullen to wonder what he had brought upon himself with his words. He drifted between sleep and the misery of being awake his aching body pulled him into when she returned carrying something that smelled wonderful.

It was a warm bread, covered with cheese that had melted slightly over the whole treat and beneath it was a layer of some sort of sauce and few sizable pieces of ham. She carried also a blanket and a huge can of warmed tea and a two mugs hanging from her fingers. Cullen got up, feeling gawky.

_”You know, whatever that is you are suffering of, your impotent self care skills can not help your cause. You sleep poorly and forget to eat. No wonder you end up feeling exhausted and want to escape. And it seems fitting that you don't ask for help either.”_

She gave the bread to Cullen and he realized he was starving, even though he had not felt hunger in days. He ate the whole bread in few minutes and ended up staring the Herald with greasy fingers and feeling slightly embarrassed after eating with such harried manner. But she just smiled that gentle and warming smile he'd seen only couple of times and swept something away from his beard. Even the lightest touch of her fingertips set off a slight burning sensation on his cheek and left him yearn for more compassionate contact.

She poured them some tea and they sipped the strong and spicy beverage in silence. Cullens body relaxed slowly, his heart beating steadily and sleepiness creeping into his limbs. The fact that someone tried to make his condition less dolorous made one tear rise into his eye. Herald noticed the changes in his breath and posture and took his cup. She thew the extra blanket for him and Cullen did not have any will left to protest, he only lied down and closed his eyes.

_”When I’m around, beware of sudden food deliveries from now on. I don’t want to end up impaled by a enemy solider only because the Commander did not have enough sense to take care of his basic needs. And consider it my way of apologizing for being such a nuisance.”_

She said when she was about to leave. Cullen muttered something unintelligible after her, trying to object but she was already outside. Whether he dissented her threat to start feeding him regularly or her implications that he considered her to be insufferable, he could not tell. After few, uncommonly pleasant moments he fell asleep and in his dream someone wrapped the blankets better around him, humming a silent tune he did not recognize.

~~~

When he woke up, the Heralds party had already departed and she had taken Sera, Cassandra and Varric with her. They would travel to the village of Redcliffe and take part in the negotiations Fiona, a leader of the rebel mages, had invited them in. Cullen had known the Herald was to leave shortly but still he regretted he had slept over the chance to say goodbyes.

At first he was not sure if the events of last night were even real but as he peeked back into his tent he could see two empty teacups and an additional blanket piled into one corner. The thought of the Herald fostering him made him feel both awkward and curiously tender. When he returned the teacups and the blanket to the Singing Maiden he sent a long, silent prayer after the Heralds party. It irked him that it was, to a large extent, all he could do from here. 

 

 

 


	14. Here we are again  the same old place still a fire inside and new lines on my face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sea Wolf - Visions

It was like her worst dreams born into a body of a hydra of nightmares. When she was able to deal with one horror, calm herself down, cutting its fearsome head down, another fear manifested before her.

The fact that all this misery was handiwork of a grieving father who would do and had done anything to safe his only son... Even destroy the world as they knew it, as it seemed. At first it could sound easier to accept, but taking a closer look, it made things worse. This was not an ultimate villain, a heinous monster but a loving father and husband, a brilliant mentor and scholar who had inspired his students to discover the unknown.

And yet a personal crisis which anyone could end up going through had made him crack - to forget his principals and his responsibilities. He'd done all those things the mages were feared for and managed to exeed all the dreaded scenarios doing so. He had tortured and broken her companions, crushed the army of the Inquisition, killed its Commander in its final, desperate push, made the free mages pledging themselves for him mindless pawns for the Venatori. But the way he had used those supporting him, mages and those without magic alike, that's what troubled her most.

They were like toys for a broken man but without giving him any joy. He pushed and pulled them around until they broke only to make an attempt after attempt to change the past that could not be reversed. But instead of accepting his pain and loss he kept going like an broken clock that struck over and over again. And the creature who had promised him the salvation, knowing his promises were empty right from he start, was going to reap him, to snuff him out for his failure.

The world falling apart around them, it didn't mean anything for either of them. Their selfish goals had made both cross the line. They had abandoned humanity, compassion, all sense of consequence and burdens of leadership, striving for their objective without remorse or giving a thought for the future.

To stand for the free mages after that... Right after she had lived in such dreadful future, even for a while, giving the mages a full alliance, handing over her trust and the resources of the Inquisition, however small they were at the moment, it was hard, almost impossible. And yet being able to do exactly that would have made her ecstatic only few months ago.

Today, in these shady halls and whole world following her decisions closely she had to wonder whether the mages truly deserved to have a free will and opportunity to live without supervision. But if the Herald of Andraste, a mage and the woman believed to be either holy or at least a glorified figurehead of a new force to be reckoned... If she did not trust the mages who would? Could there be any chance left for them to learn how to live in freedom?

Everyone was waiting for her response. Even though she remembered the hallways glowing a pulsating red light, corpses and living creatures alike devoured by lyrium, a lion-head-helmet and shield of a seeker both taken as trophies and left to collect dirt, sky completely covered by a green vortex and demons everywhere, her heart almost stopped beating when she tried to make the most rational decision.

When they pushed their freedom the mages had made assassination attempts, committed terrorist acts and started a wide-spread war. Seeing the conflict a limited issue between them and the templars had left those caught in a crossfire vulnerable to wrongdoings on both sides.

They had paid the favor given by Ferelden's ruler back poorly when they gave themselves as slaves of Tevinter and drove the villagers of Redcliffe from their homes. She should not simply offer an alliance after that. That could be seen as rewarding such a display. Many of those offended would rather see them facing ramifications.

They should be conscripted and used as a weapon against the Breach, forged to fit the purposes of the Inquisition. It might cause those who'd fought for their freedom with fire and blood to rebel against the Inquisition at some point. But in this dire need they'd be a steadier resource for them to use if they were controlled tightly.

But when she was ready to announce her conclusion, she saw the dark eyes she'd loved so much. They were staring at her in the darkness of her mind. And as she raised her hand to shackle the mages the eyes went blank and cold like deep pond. When the unnatural serenity took over, those eyes lost their usual light and passion.

She tried to drive the memory of a love lost away but the past caught up with her no matter how fast she fled. In the ashes lied a copper headed girl clutching a toy and impaled by a templar sword. At that moment she knew that whatever her choice would cause, she had to do what she felt was right - even if she did not think it was right. Otherwise she couldn't stand up to her ruling in the years to follow.

"We would be honored to have you fighting as an allies on the Inquisitions side."

She heard her voice saying. However hard she tried to reminisce afterwards she could not tell when she had started speaking but in the following silence one voice was stronger than before.

The lullaby she had once almost forgotten and recovered during the nights when she cradled a scared child in her arms was playing in her head. She could hear her heart beating steadily and strongly.


	15. You've been drinking like the world was gonna end, took a shiner from the fist of your best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lorde - Glory and Gore

Dara had a new best friend. Truth to be told, possibly her first real friend since she was fifteen years old; In her latter teenage years and in the early twenties most of her relationships had started under some sort of involuntary circumstances like surviving the daily life in circle. They might have been crucial and life-saving at the time; But as her days in the circle were numbered she did not look back. 

And of course she had fallen in love so madly and fast... That relationship had been full of passion and fierce convictions but there was never time for developing a steady friendship with her lover before… well _that_ was another story. But now, it was like a crush or some other form of both emotional and physical turmoil. She was excited and so happy it tingled in her feet and made her heart beat faster.

The first time he had spoken, his words had made her smile. In the middle of a dire situation: danger and deception, he’d made her laugh and there was no way she didn’t notice how damn gorgeous he was. Tall, dark and handsome stranger as in books she had been reading, back when she was bored and stuck inside the tower. Between more legit books of history, war strategy and arcane magic of course!

She did neither need nor want a romance though. Having someone with such wit and charm, telling endless sarcastic jokes mixed with subtle self-irony and habit of sassing both nobles and peasants - yes, just having him around had helped.

Like it had done after an especially nasty confrontation with chancellor Roderick; Dara had sunk to the farthest corner of Singing Maiden and tired to be as invisible as possible. When she had calmed down and started to relax, enjoying the chatter around her, listening to music and fragments of conversations here and there, a glass of wine had suddenly appeared under her nose. Dorian sat next to her and passed her another end of the rope with multiple ways to use or lose it: 

_”Seems you can’t do anything right?”_

_”Yeah, makes you think whether half of these people are blind fools or if you are truly so different, unsuitable or wrong as they say. It's hard to give your best and more if many of those you stand for would cast you aside, if an opportunity presented itself."_

_"Yes, it indeed is.”_

They sat there for a while and Dara tipped that she appreciated the wine Dorian had offered but she couldn’t drink red wine at all, or the results would be most unpleasant. Dorian seemed to be so genuinely sorry for her Dara could do nothing but laugh and imply the wine seemed to have great place in his heart. Dorian admitted he might have a habit of drowning his sorrows - both in the past and the present.

They talked about the Inquisition-to-be, Tevinter, mages, history… Their exchange had started when it was only late afternoon and it was almost midnight as they departed after a bottle of wine, few ginger ales, a card game and several rounds of snacks.

Dara lingered near her tent and enjoyed the nights darkness that was gentle and not impenetrable. She stood under the starry sky and cherished silence around her - she realized the weight that had been pulling her down for days was almost gone. Dara opened a flap of her tent when she saw a familiar shadow on the wall. Dorian was standing near the Chantry, looking somewhere afar, like he was watching the stars but not really seeing them. As if all the spinning and colliding they had both felt in their lives and talked about tonight had stopped inside him as well. Dara raised her hand and she could have sworn a wide smile spread to his face as he waved back.

After that night they were seen together almost daily and whenever Dara left Haven and headed to run some missions, Dorian was always in her party. They had the craziest nights in the Singing Maiden, drinking, talking, even dancing. People gossiped. The Herald disappeared with that Tevinter mage, the altus. During their missions they might stop in some villages and spend nights together. At least they had sometimes taken same room, rumors told.

Dara heard that gossip too; Being familiar about all the hushed whispers around her had saved her reckless and rebellious ass numerous times in the past. But now she couldn't make herself care about it, no matter how much she tried. This relationship was way too important for her to change it because of some malicious hags. Maybe too important in every sense but she allowed that to herself.

And there was the point where the legend stopped walking side by side with the truth. A small path, almost unnoticeable fork of the main road. And there, in the middle of thick forest was a lush meadow of flowers, overgrown grass, rare butterflies and sunshine.

Yes, they talked about things, Dara told more about herself at first but Dorian was even angrier than her, more reserved, more bitter. She understood many things without saying and read them between the lines that were filled with a elegant, graceful, and pompous handwriting.

Dorian did her hair - she rubbed his shoulders and neck he'd managed to get stuck when casting his spells in battles. They even slept in the same bed every now and then. Dorian read his favorite books to her and Dara managed to smuggle him some little luxuries regularly. To those who guessed or knew that they weren't likely in a romantic relationship, as the sexual attraction would be one sided at most... to them it might seem like an emotional haven with physical comfort and trust mingled together. No heartbreak, no love triangles and not even any inevitable breakups and following meltdowns.

They had no idea, how hard the dance was for Dara. To be this comfortable with someone, to care about them so deeply and feel all this so damn fast. To recognize their attractiveness and yet to know making advances would not lead anywhere. She had to go through the same process as those who threw themselves into the ring and asked whether their feelings for someone were mutual - except she already knew the answer. She did her best not letting Dorian know how close she was to fall. 

Her potential pain was not his problem. She had a feeling, had he known, causing her pain would have hurt him too. How greatly it actually did, she never found out.

~~~

Of course he knew and not being able to talk it through with Dara was surprisingly hard for him. It ended up being one of the very few things they never shared with each other. 

Dara respected his liking of men with no questions or prejudices. He didn't have to clarify the situation to her, his actions and implications had made it clear. It was all natural to her like having green eyes or not being able to roll your tongue and make it look like a cigar. Coming from a place where his interest in the same sex had been shameful and considered almost a treason against his own family, betraying their and his legacy and abandoning everything they had worked for - like he had any saying in how his body and mind had felt, possibly since birth. Having a friend who respected and adored him was like a magical safety net of love he so painfully needed.

Dara encouraged him to show his true self to the world, without shame or reservations. She said he deserved to find love and happiness, that she would support him like any friend should, whether his ambitions lied in developing his home country or building meaningful relationships. 

Sometimes he got angry when he overheard someone talking a little too loud about how convenient having a soulmate whom you didn't marry or bang had to be. That assumption oversimplified their relationship and undoubtedly hurt Dara who was balancing herself over a sticky spiderweb of needs and desires unspoken.

After a short struggle she had climbed out of the web without his help. A victory that almost no-one noticed but Dorian respected greatly. She had emerged being even better friend than before. A highly sung glory for her loyalty and ability to stand strong in love, both platonic and passionate sort. 

When Dara turned her back to him and marched out of the Haven Chantry it felt like the walls around him started to crumble. Even the glimpse of Cullens impression told him Dara meant to sacrifice herself in order to save them and some part of Dorians soul shattered like a dripstone that had snapped from a ledge... As the heavy wooden doors slammed shot and mages pushed their barriers between them and Corypheus' forces, words died to his lips. He had never said it to Dara. That he _loved_ her.

 

 


	16. Sometimes I feel so down and out, like emotion that's been captured in a maze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugarbabes - Stronger

She was back, and as she rode into Haven Cullen wondered how he'd ever considered her features to be anything but absolutely divine. Her flaming hair was open once again and it fell on the other side of her face. Even though there was weariness in the way she moved, the strength of hers, both physical and emotional was out in the open. And he envied it for he was a weak man indeed.

Not that he'd admit it to anyone, Cullen had seized the opportunity to meet the Herald, however briefly before Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra or her mage friends would claim her attention. He had been the one to open the letter telling of her closing arrival and kept the information to himself for now. They might have quarrels about the dangers of magic and another issues revolving around those wielding it, but he had still missed her. That much he had to admit to himself.

When she noticed him waiting near the stall she stared him in a manner that made chills run down his spine: like he was a ghost. A tired smile rose to her full lips though it hardly survived the trip into her eyes. Skin around her long scar tightened on her cheek and she balanced herself against the wall of stables. She handed Ghost to a stable girl for cleaning, which was highly atypical of her. He was to ask what caused such reaction when she tried to lighten the mood:

_"Such a small welcoming party! What have I done to piss off everyone but you; I'd expected to see at least one of those people that actually like me."_

Cullen furrowed his brows, realizing she implied he wasn't one of those liking her. And Maker knew he could be a too-formal stalwart and grumpy, and show his disapproval more strongly than his respect or other positive feelings. He bet his supposed-to-be lighthearted jokes or frail attempts to sassing someone did not fool anyone on those days that both his body and mind wished just to curl up in the ball and whimper.

It might be possible she was under _that_ impression after all. Yet she made time to meet him and even bring him meals, whenever she was in Haven. He wondered why...

_"Have your lost weight Commander? After all my hard work to keep you eating properly and here you are, stubborn enough to get yourself killed."_

Cullen's first instinct was to be slightly annoyed by her exaggeration. It wasn't like few skipped meals would end up being his fatality... But then he saw it again, like the faintest remains of ancient elven painting on a wall, visible only for those who were lucky enough to notice it. The strangest sorrow brushing her features and then was gone just as quickly it had appeared.

 _"I have been eating. Maybe not as well as when someone is mothering me but well enough. And what makes you think I don't_  
_make it to the list of people who like the Herald of Andraste?"_

He asked, his mind still working around the way she'd been looking at him. Like he was a dead man already, which he might be, given his withdrawal and their mission but the other she was not supposed to know, unless Cassandra had revealed his secret, and the other was old news. 

_"I would not sign up just yet, before you hear about the events of the Redcliffe castle."_

The Herald said and her warm fingers brushed the back of his hand briefly when she pushed herself past him. It seemed involuntary, like she'd touched him only to ground herself, to make sure he was real and her eyes and ears did not lead her astray.

For a fleeting moment he saw himself grabbing her wrist, turning her around and kissing her against the stable wall until she'd forget her sorrow and whatever had caused it. He snorted and rolled his eyes. His persistent dreams clearly affected him poorly, making him think he'd want and even be allowed to do such thing without being burnt.

The Herald was heading to the Chantry. The light the snow reflected hurt his eyes and made him sneeze uncontrollably when he hurried himself after her. 

~~~

_"It's not a matter for debate! There will be abominations among the mages and we must be prepared."_

It seemed making a short trip to greet Solas on her way to the Chantry had been a lousy idea if it lead to stumbling right into a heated argument, Dara thought, her legs aching and head spinning of tiredness. Cullen's voice echoed under the high ceiling and hid its remains under the rafters.

_"What were you thinking, turning mages lose with no oversight. The Veil is torn open, damn it!"_

Cullen turned his furious gaze to her and she could feel her magic trying to push to the surface. It was like an animal instinct of fight or flight and she had to take a moment to calm herself down before she answered. She remembered the remaining, desolated and desperate mages turning into abominations before her eyes, glowing lyrium feeding of the corpses and all she had ever known and loved falling under darkness. And she had to admit, she had asked herself the same, over and over again.

_"Give them their freedom for now, if they prove later they can't handle it, impose restrictions. One should be considered innocent unless proven guilty. I'm also a sucker for second chances, maybe not for the third ones though."_

She said, hoping he'd see she was willing to be reasonable and take precautions. 

_"And how many lives will be lost if they fail? With the Veil torn open, the threath of being possessed - you were there Seeker, why didn't you intervene?"_

Of course he'd try to get Cassandra, the ultimate templar, to side with him, to walk over her decision, to show a mage her rightful place. Now she was getting tired of him hauling over her the coals of the conclusion she had made. It might have ended with her blowing her fuse but Cassandra managed to surprise her into silence.

_"While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it."_

She said and nodded, giving her encouraging smile of companionship. It made tears of gratitude rose to her eyes which made Cassandra turn her head away quickly. She might not known it but in the dark days to come that smile made Dara trust Cassandra more and more frequently and strengthened their incipient friendship.

_"The sole point of the Heralds mission was to gain the mages aid and that was accomplished."_

That made Cullen to shut the stable doors, even if it was after his horses had bolted. He realized he had almost shouted and among these women who reigned with such grace and elegance he felt like a barbarian, a self-righteous fool who could not stop his declarations of running out from his mouth.

He tried to save whatever possible with smiles and jest but all of the Heralds light was pouring over the Tevinter mage who had promised to help the Inquisition. Whereas he was a wounded animal, snarling when his past injuries were aching, this man was suave and witty, like he'd never seen such dismal places he'd wandered in. So he limped away, uncertain of how things had ended between him and anyone else, to lick his wounds and rest.

  
~~~

Cullen wanted to talk to the Herald, find out whether she was angry at him, ask how she was doing after her weird time traveling experience; If ones past could shape them greatly, would living in a future have even stronger effects?

But she was always in the company of this charming Tevinter mage, Dorian, who had beguiled both the Herald and her friends, well everybody accept Cassandra. He also felt that his weak efforts to soften his outburst afterwards hadn't worked; The Herald had been at arms length after that, almost avoiding him. So he had to do something he detested and peek into the Singing Maiden when it was busting with people relaxing after days work. 

He spotted the Herald, sitting on Kinseys lap, Isela curled under her arm and Elman sitting next to Kinsey. She was talking to Dorian and her lively features looked joyous and a little foxy when she listened his story. She giggled and commented something, trying to pat Elmans thigh but he pulled away. Cullen remembered how Elman had reacted after finding out the woman he'd been sleeping with and whom he had just kissed was the Herald of the Andraste. He realized it might hurt her, the fact that a man who had clearly desired her once, more than anything else, could barely touch her now, like her title had made her a completely different person, something he had to diverge himself of. He could not even blame him for feeling so, though it wasn't rational. _That could have been me, years back, he thought. ___

She looked so happy, so loved and free of worries that he started to back down and was trying to retreat out of the tavern when she noticed him. With one big leap over a bench she was on the same side of the table as he and then she strode to meet him.

" _Commander, good to see you here. This might seem as a "mage-table" but we are more than willing to squeeze another ex-templar into our troupe, right?"_

She turned around, like asking permission and Dorian raised his glass of wine slightly, smiling at Cullen.

_"If they are as handsome as this one, we could fit in even more."_

_A slight redness rose to Cullens cheeks and he managed to mutter that he'd wished to speak with the Herald alone._

_"Oh, let me fetch my coat and we can talk outside?"_

She said and Cullen nodded, thankful of her willingness to join him without questions asked.

When the door closed after them the Herald started talking, like she'd practiced her speech beforehand:

 _"The Grey Wardens are using mages to heal and protect their soliders. And they are a force that even Blights and the taint can't break completely. Why the Inquisition couldn't do the same? Without mages we would be underdogs before we even made our move._ _When Tevinter or those under the Qun - or both, come pouring over the borders with Venatori, battle mages or Saarebas in their ranks, whereas Orlais, Marches and Ferelden have banished and killed all the mages still willing to fight for them. That day, Commander, your Dog Lords and templars will burn just like the lands of my family..."_

Cullen stared at her wondering where this would lead.

_"That is if Corypheus hasn't made the mages his puppets and let us feel their wrath after years of fear and suppression. He might crush us with or without mages but handing them over to him on a silver plate would be idiotic. It would make us a low hanging fruit, even you see it don't you?"_

_"I was just..."_  
  
He started but he could not find any arguments he had not given into this topic a million times before.

_"And I want to give the mages the only reason there is for fighting alongside us: an alliance, not a bitter pill of pledging themselves to us under threats of demise or implying that we are leaving them under the mercy of the templars. You can rule with an iron fist but that won't gain you loyalty. It's been said that to be a good ruler you should have been ruled yourself. I'm no ruler but I think that after years under such ruling I know better than almost anyone how to make those mages fight and die for the Inquisition."_

She stopped and finally looked at him.

_"You seemed to have a problem with how I handled the situation with the mages. Do you have a problem with me as well?"_

_Of course not! I might disagree with you but **we** **don't** have a problem; I have no intention of endangering your alliance. All I'm saying is that I have to ensure the safety of those in here and that concern extends to mages. They are putting themselves at risk for the Inquisition as are you. Any precautions taken are meant to aid us, I hope you are taking them as such."_

A smallest smile visited Heralds lips but she waited for him to say something more.

_"It feels like my whole life of service has been about making the best of the limited resources someone else has handed to me. So protecting the mages from non-mages and themselves and the threats of the Veil torn open, with more freedom for mages than they've had in ages - I'll just have to make it work."_

The Heralds posture slumped like she'd given up fighting against her melancholy. For some reason this felt like goodbyes, like she had been given a premonition and she felt like she needed to make amends. When she spoke he felt his heart beating more heavily and his breath stuck in his throat. 

_"Cullen. I'm sorry if I've... You seem like a good man and me throwing a fit every time we try to discuss the situation with mages... Ah, fuck it, never mind. Forget it."_

He was so astonished to hear her saying his given name, and doing it so casually, it took too long for him to respond. The Herald had already left, her receding body showing clearly how embarrassed she was because of her outburst. She had deserted him, to stand in a snow and only seeing the warm light of the tavern to cut the white masses in half and casting Heralds shadowy silhouette to the ground under his feet, made him snap out of his astounded state. It was not long after that he wished he had done anything in his power to make sure she had known that things were fine between them, and there was never a reason for her to apologize.

 

 

 


	17. I cry your name out loud but it’s all the same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Black - Under Attack

If someone asked, he'd have to admit that based on his first impression he'd been certain for she would be a terrible Herald. But he had seen how many of those mages whom she had commanded adored her, how her brothers and sisters in arms, especially Cassandra, looked up to her or had faith in her. He had learned that beneath her rash decisions and flaming temper was a deeply caring woman. There could not be one soul among these people, as they were fleeing for their lives, who could say they did anything but respect her after the latest events of the Haven.

Strong willed, promiscuous, adamant, coy, reckless and fierce - she was all of that but on the other hand... Nothing and no-one else but a living flame like she could've survived that raging, never-ending, blinding blizzard and lonesome climb back to life. She lend her light and warmth to everyone stepping into her vicinity and _by the name of Andraste_ , they needed all the light in this hour of darkness. Many of them, lost and broken, their lives changed forever by this sudden and unnatural green light, were circling around her like moths, desperately seeking for aid or salvation. And Maker knew, he had yet to find his way too.

Those moments, he'd thought losing her, they had changed something in him. He had felt like catapult resetting it's target, minutes following each other, or hour passing after another, small nudges at a time, someone persistently pushing it to new direction. His body and mind were stiff and heavy, made of old and screeching iron, too used to work in its unchanged, old motions and in its usual position.

When they had witnessed Haven collapsing inwards something was set in motion inside him. The turmoil of emotions had been overwhelming: pain, quilt, horror, loss, anger and strange, terminal sorrow - like something better, brighter had been promised to start but it died in its infant state.

He knew he had no reason to hope. No-one could survive that: enemy so malicious, the gigantic dragon attacking a lonesome hero, a brave yet delicate flame fading away in a one strong sweep of the dragons wings and whole village going down in an avalanche of destruction.

It had been snowing, never-ending white curtain before their small group of survivals, keeping both friend and foe afar. It was hard for him to keep going, every step taken feeling like a statement of them abandoning the last glimpse of hope, turning their backs to the Herald. It hurt him and made his limbs more heavy than pushing through the snow banks, even though this was exactly what she'd have wanted. 

But he had to get these people to safety: commons, nobles, mages and soldiers sewn together by their loyalty to the Inquisition. He had to protect and shield, even if his heart didn't follow this path. It felt like sliding back to those years after the fall of the Kinloch Hold; He had been a machine of responsibility and honor.

Yet he did not trust that man anymore. Those years were a blur, filled with fears, anger and resentment; He had continued forward, reciting the rules he had been taught as he knew nothing else. His mind was closed and frail as it was, but back then it had also tried to keep all the horrors and pain locked away. It had kept the present horrors of Kirkwall at bay as well. He wished he could cling to whatever emotions and empathy he had managed to salvage from the wreckage of once promising and ingenious man.

If he'd have any compassion left at this moment he'd hoped for these peoples sake that he was able keep his humanity better intact this time. Not to become a husk of duty once again. But he could feel the land sliding under his feet, all the newfound goodness and decency in him buried in the ruins of Haven. It was supposed to be his new start, chance to atone. And behold, all that was left was death and bloody destruction, once again.

What bothered him, when they had set up a camp and Dorian had insisted them to search for the Herald or _Dara_ as Dorian had pleaded with desperation ringing clearly as Chantry bells in his voice... he had realized, for a long time he had thought they didn't need a Herald at all; They had an ambassador, a Lady Seeker, a Commander of their forces to be, a Spymaster and growing body of allies. And if he considered his earlier conclusion they could still go on without her, almost like there never were any survivors in the aftermath of the Conclave.

But he, as a man, person of his own interests, once again weighing the reasons and consequences of his actions, even harboring some unnamed, immature and hopeless feelings, found going on without that damned mage, the woman who had been standing in the snowfall and handing him her only cover against the storm and delivering cookies onto his desk when he was not around, almost impossible.

_"Dara! Dara! DARA!"_

He could hear Dorian shouting somewhere inside the whirling wind and flurry of snow. He hoped they didn't have to search for the Tevinter mage next when he rushed around erratically, his voice growing more desperate with each shout. He felt stupid just wandering through storm and so he started calling for the Herald too.

After he had yelled couple of times he heard a muffled sound nearby. He surged forward, forgetting that he could lose himself into this storm as well, and almost stepped on Dara. She was lying in the snow, drift had melted around her and she had curled in a ball. She was almost unconscious and unnervingly cold. 

He called for the others:

_"She's here!"_

And Dorian and Cassandra sprang to the site. Cullen could have cried if the seeker and the mage had not taken care of that already. He was warm, in the most unlikely manner, almost like they weren't surrounded by masses of snow. 

He felt the catapult stop turning. The screeching of the wheel fell silent. The fog faded and he could see the battlefield again. He aimed and noticed that if he'd launch it now, he could hit the target perfectly.

 

 


	18. But I'm ready to question, that life is a blessing, so give me a sign, I'm a follow it blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabrielle Aplin - Ready to Question

She was getting better, slowly but steadily and Cullen could feel the sleep creeping into his eyes and body. He had told himself he'd only stop by for a while. It had been hours ago. Dorian and Solas had been warming the Herald with their spells ever since and as they grew more exhausted she started to look like one of the living again.

None of those present said anything about it but all of them knew the Herald would have been the best mage around to treat someone who needed warming. As it was her lying cold and pale on a bedroll they did what they could. But now they had stopped and after a short, muffled conversation Solas left, leaving Cullen and Dorian sitting in the otherwise empty tent.

_"I could use some sleep."_

Dorian said and opened another bedroll, positioning himself next to the Herald. Cullen would have protested had he not known she'd probably insist Dorian to keep her company. And watching Dorian falling asleep holding Heralds hand in his, the sleep took over him. When his eyelids fell down he could see Daras fingers squeezing Dorians hand with the slightest amount possible.

It was morning and the rising sun warmed the tent. Wind did not howl around their group of survivors anymore and storm had not buried their camp entirely. The Heralds hair was like a scarf made of coppery yarn as it fell to both sides of her head. Her eyelashes fluttered and she started coughing, making him to struggle himself up into halfway decent position before her awakening was to woke up Dorian also.

Dorian opened his eyes and the most genuine smile Cullen had ever seen him giving to anyone lit his features and made them rather boyish.

_"Hnghh, it seems I'm alive. Again! Maker knows I'm not a very devoted Andrastian but this makes you think, doesn't it."_

The Herald said, her voice raspy and lower than usual.

Dorian made a strange noise and Cullen tried to stay as still as possible, feeling he was interrupting something private. Dara turned her head and smiled wearily to him.

_"I thought I smelled your coat when I was out and it seems you Fereldans stink so bad it could raise dead from their graves."_

Cullen laughed. It was a strange noise, like a door which had been closed for years had been opened suddenly and its hinges did not remember how they should turn; For a fleeting moment he felt regret of the seriousness that had become part of him.

_"I was not sure whether I was still dreaming but seeing you makes it clear I surely ain't; Since you two, in a same room and in my dreams would do something rather different than look terribly concerned and sit uncomfortably, fully clothed."_

Dorian wiggled his eyebrow to Cullen and he felt a blush climbing up his neck.

_"It's surprisingly hard to create a smokescreen of a heroic sacrifice in order to avoid seeing certain ridiculous mustache. If getting attacked by dragon, possibly an arcdemon, and being buried alive under a mountain didn't kill me, you don't suppose this cold I'm suffering of would do the trick?"_

She asked half-heartedly and underneath the lightness of her words they could hear the impact the events of the Haven had casted upon her. Fear. Despair. Loss.

_"Never again, never, do you hear me?"_

Dorian said and all the joy had left his face and body.

_"You know I can't make such promises; I've been on the overtime ever since the circle and then I've got plenty of extensions, surviving both the Conclave and the Haven. If there really are higher plans set to motion I doubt they'll end with me living happily ever after."_

She sighed and closed her eyes. Cullen stood up, a coldness quickly replacing the warmth that had blossomed in him when they'd found her. She gave him hope, strengthened his faith but what would happen if she was to lose hers?

_"I'm glad to see you're getting better."_

He muttered and was to leave when she did something that made every inch and fibre of his body, the very essence of him to reach towards her like a plant needing sunlight, knowing instinctively this was a pull they were unable to resist. And all she did was to say his name.

_"Cullen."_

He could not look at her, as he was afraid his bafflement was written all over his features. But he stood still, waiting, his heart pounding and his ears full of static.

_"Thank you for finding me."_

She said and when he raised his eyes to meet hers, they were like suryp caramels he used to get from the market as a boy. Warm, sweet and inviting. Afterwards, when he tried to remember what he had mumbled before his exit, he could not tell what he'd said.

Then the nightfall came and she had rested yet another day... Their planning had drifted into a rapid of pointless bickering and when she came, in her wake she made everyone to sing a praise, a hymn of hope. But the taste when the chant left his lips was as bittersweet as those caramels used to be; Waiting and finally getting such rare delight, yet knowing it was bound to always end too soon.

 


	19. But with all my education I can’t seem to command it And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence + The Machine - All this and the Heaven too

Cullen stood on a bridge and watched lower camps buzzing with soliders. The foggy veil circled the area and made it feel like time itself had stopped around this place. It had taken them quite some time to make even the crucial parts of the Skyhold inhabitable - not repaired or presentable but somewhat weatherproof. He could see all the possibilities this kind of fortress offered. And at the same time he wondered how such a place had remained secret. It was like an ancient elven good had ordered the clouds to hide it until now, to reveal it when they needed it the most.

He worked hard, writing letters, setting up camps and quarters, arranging the forces a continuous food supply and medical aid and when the most urgent part was done he even climbed up to a tower and picked himself an office. It was close to the War Room but remote enough for him to get some privacy.

Few recruits offered to fix his office firsthand but he said he wanted to do the repairs himself. And one night, before he fell onto his bedroll and into too short sleep troubled with nightmares, he started the work by cleaning the windows and fixing a short piece of a wall. He also gathered some books from the old library of Skyhold. They looked a bit sad and alone in a huge bookshelf which stood in the corner of his office to be, sturdy and old as a rock.

It was the fourth day in the Skyhold when the Inquisitor appeared near his current working station. He knew he had been avoiding her; Burying himself under endless pile of work did indeed lead to the same outcome as deliberately dodging the situations where they might meet.

And then he turned and saw her, leaning to a stone wall and smiling just a little. He poured out an explanation after explanation for her, even though she had been there, knowing their desperate situation better than anyone. But he could not help it, the words just jumped out and...

_"Do you ever sleep?"_

She asked and Cullen could have taken it as a harmless teasing hadn't he known she really cared for him as well as she took care of him. He had heard Varric complaining about her being an irritating mother hen just yesterday. And yes, even in the middle of all this fuss she had managed to send him food, treats and some herbal tea. _For a peaceful sleep,_ the note attached to the small leather purse said.

He had not only avoided her company but also averted thinking how close she had been to death. And even though she let him to make promises, even give his word, reassure he’d prevent events like Haven from happening again, they both must have known how little he could actually do.

 

~~~

 

She loved Skyhold. This fortress was an endless well of stories: forgotten paintings, books, statues and small hideouts filled with prayers left for ancient elven goods. She wondered how many generations of both human and elves had used this as a place to hide, to worship and heal. There could not be a place more fitting for her or their cause. There was old pain but also hope and aura of new beginnings in the halls and stairwells.

Solas's words were on her mind when she lied alone in her bed, doors open and cold wind whistling in the corners.

_"Skyhold —Tarasyl'an te'las—was "the place where the sky was held back... Given your efforts against the Breach as well as our battle against a madman who seeks to assault the Black City in the Fade, I can only hope that the Inquisition's new stronghold lives up to its name."_

Dara wandered around, as much as she could justify, talking to people, giving orders and feeling uneasy when people congratulated her of becoming the Inquisitor. She knew they needed a leader and she had already been a figurehead when they called her the Herald. But being a mage considered to be the Herald of Andraste and now leading Chantry's former iron fist of faith, in the eyes of many she was twice as blasphemous as before. She could almost feel flames of the pyre licking her feet.

Most of the people were cheerful around her even after fall of Haven. Like her latest survival had cemented her holiness. Unfortunately, for her it had done no such thing. There was only one exception: Cullen had avoided her ever since her designation; Maybe he thought she was a worthless fraud and because he was highly professional sort he submitted to the majority...

The look in his eyes when he noticed her. It made her think about those times she had walked into a room and interrupted a heated argument or a meeting of lovers. It was a mix of guilt and embarrassment. His beard was longer than usual and his hair was tousled. She actually liked his appearance more when he wasn't as cleanly groomed but unfortunately it also made her to worry.

He had dark under eyes and a furrow between his eyebrows seemed to be deeper than before. Whatever haunted him used to ease when she was around, as unlikely as it was, for one reason or another: maybe it was just for the sake of having company. But that was before - lately even glimpses of her made him look troubled.

The last time she had put her mind into thinking about how the Commander felt about her, she could have said with certainty that he would be happy had she left Haven and the Inquisition for good. But months passed and here they were, she still shaken after Haven and Cullen having trouble dealing with their losses and the way Corypheus’s forces had hammered them.

She had been worried he'd consider her unworthy of her title, Maker knew she did. But when he said, disregarding all the suspicions he had for mages in general, that she had proven herself to be the leader they needed she felt relieved. Afterwards, when she cursed her stupidity she blamed his trustworthiness of her choice of words.

She made an awkward comment concerning Cullens survival and regretted it immediately when she saw his face changing. Just when he had opened up a little, talked about Haven and all seemed to be normal. Well, as normal as the conversations between a bitter ex-circle-mage and former knight-captain could be. Then she had to let something so stupid slip. Figures.

To take this as her cue to exit was likely the best solution and she was about to leave when the Commander reached out for her. His face was unreadable but his voice cracked a little.

_"You...stayed behind, you could have… I promise I won't allow events like Haven happen again."_

She knew he could not make such promises or at least be able to keep them. Not really. But he could try and he wanted to do so and that was the part that mattered now. It did not erase the fact that neither of them held the power over their lives anymore but even pretending they did have a saying in all this made it easier to go back in the ring.

She was heading to the stables and Cullen was already crouched over his maps and parchments when she looked over her shoulder.

_"I'll see you around? Don't be a stranger."_

It earned her a tired smile from him.

_"I won't."_

 

 


	20. And all of the pieces were torn and thrown, you should know where I'm coming from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Banks - You should know where I'm coming from

She was all murder and mayhem on the battlefield. Some stories even referred her as _Makers Wrath_ like she was some sort of supernatural creature that did Makers bidding, destroying his enemies and burning his opposers down.

He talked about it with Cassandra once. They had been training; Dara wanted to improve her skills in close combat, without magic and using only the blade in her staff and a wire and few daggers hidden to her armor and boots. After the training Cullen had told Cassandra, who leaned to the fence nearby, watching their practice, that Dara was, surprisingly, quite decent fighter even with her _in the case of emergency_ -weapons too. But actually going against her on the battlefield and seeing her true power burning enemies to the ground, _that_ would terrify him.

Cassandra had looked through him and said with a surprisingly sad voice:

_"The best warrior knows when to retreat, rejuvenate and even lose a battle to win the war. Losing a battle might be the most honorable thing to do if it saves lives or helps to avoid unnecessary suffering... It is also smart to fear an opponent who can outmatch yourself greatly. So Commander, admitting your fear makes you rather wise than a reckless hot-head or coward."_

She might rise walls of fire or make the flames explode in the middle of her enemies but reading reports, hearing stories and actually seeing her between the missions and battles, in the interactions with occasional people needing her help and taking it easy with her party - it had showed Cullen the other side of her abilities. The longer he observed her, the more he saw how pervasively she used the magic in her life. 

Cullen rarely had a chance to join the Inquisitor when she left their base of operations but those few times her missions had been located close to Skyhold and he needed to leave the fortress to get things done, he accompanied Inquisitors party for short times. Traveling was safer with more people in the group and this way he didn't have to take so many soldiers with him when running errands.

Dara used her magic to very mundane things like making tea or cooking soup. On the road she made washing dishes nicer as she warmed the waters and indoors she did the same with baths as well. For those who did not bode with cold very well she gave hot water bottles or little bags of oath stuffed in fabric. She carried them around and whenever someone had sore feet after days walk or stiff muscles the lingering warmth felt heavenly. She also gave away numerous roasting hugs and offered herself as a bedwarmer, most of the time in the literal sense; Her body temperature truly was a miracle, whether she was holy or not.

She burned ropes so they did not come apart, warmed metal to able minor fixes and once she even helped to stop a seemingly endless nosebleed: Seras nose started bleeding on afternoon and blood continued to drop and run until it was late evening. Dara managed to fish for information long enough to find out that Sera got those persistent nosebleeds quite often but this was worse than usually. In the morning the elf was so fed up she swore and swore all the time and made others irritated. 

_"Would you please let me fix it already?”_

Dara tried to negotiate.

_"No tricks go near or into my face, ugh!”_

Sera snapped. She had to lick the persistently dripping blood away from her lips even while speaking.

_"C'mon I am not one of those shitfaced Venatori, I'm your friend and I want your bloody nose fixed so you can fight properly and go on your merry ways without slowly bleeding to death."_

Sera was quiet for some time and to everyones surprise she huffed and said.

_"Fine. But just because it is you!"_

Dara said nothing but passed Sera a bottle of strong liqour and beckoned her to take few good sips. She did as asked and after a while she relaxed seemingly. Dara took her face between her hands and sticked her finger into Seras nostril like it was most natural things she had ever done. Sera flinched as Dara tried to feel the origin of the blood: which vein gave up constantly. When she thought she had found the leak she ordered Cassandra to keep Seras head still. Before Sera had time to protest she quickly burned the vein shut as Cassandra kept her head still and prevented her from hurting herself in an escape attempt. 

 _"Shit, nugsit and batcrap! Shit!"_  

Sera swore and almost hissed but the nosebleed had stopped. And as the story goes, she had not a single nosebleed after that. Well once, but it was after an end result of a prank that did not end well so it does not count.  After this heroic field operation Cullen found Dara lying under a tree, head resting on her backpack and sipping cider from a flask.

 _"Sometimes I wonder how I would be… what I could be if… Without being sent to the Circle. Without the world either under a blight or trying to recover after one. In the era of peace and prosper."_  

She said but did not look at him. 

_"Would I do research, be a merchant, hunt the remaining monsters, bake bread, raise kids and take care of heard of sheep on some remote farm? Or would I cherish my nobility and attend balls and be courted by some pompous lords?"_

She kept a pause and changed her position so she could see him. Cullen could not read her expression. Was she angry, sad or bitter? He could not tell. 

_"Had I chosen fire for my element if the world wasn't already burning, if those who guarded my every move hadn't tried to sniff my inner flame out? Could I be a healer or ask spirits to help me?"_

Cullen had troubles finding anything to say that suited Daras current mood as he did not know whether she needed a listener, bracing, or Maker help it, comforting. Dara had turned her face away from him again and seemed to become more distant each passing second. He laid his palm very lightly on Daras shoulder and suspected that she might flinch or pull herself away from him. But she did neither, only sat there stoicly. She raised her hand to meet his and cupped her fingers around it. 

_"Asking this, even rethorically from someone who made lifechanging choices at the age of thirteen and is still struggling with the backlash of them. Probably not a good choice."_

He could see a half-smile abiding on Daras face as her cheekbones and ears moved a little upwards and stayed that way for a while.

_"Maybe it's not the circle or this world that keeps crumbling I should be blaming. What if there is only boiling blood, violence and destructive flames inside my heart and mind. If I really should be chained and suppressed. Maybe I was a demonic spawn at birth, a vessel of all pride, vengeance and hunger for power running in my family. Cursed to wander this world leaving nothing but ash and bones in my wake just like my grandmother saw in her deathbed."_

Her voice died out like she had no train of thought to follow anymore. As if she had reached a dead end so familiar she had carved her initials to the wall hundreds of times. And each time she had found her way out in the dark, back to life, aback among fighters, lovers and friends, probably struggling hopelessly alone. 

_"Nice chat, right."_

She snapped and sprung up almost violently.

_"If you are to break someones will and sense of self, try few years in a circle and everyone you ever loved abandoning you. Works wonders, I can vouch for that."_

She walked away and left him wondering how someone who seemed to be so damn sure of their abilities, looks, charm and the way they led their life could have issues of selfworth so grave it might shatter them to million little pieces.  

He could have felt bad about the way their conversation had ended. But the memory of touch so tender, casual, yet full of assumptions about a need to be comforted and willingness to do so... It made him feel like Dara had casted a spell of warmth over him.

 


	21. How do we choose right from wrong when we don't know which battles we should end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circus Maximus - The One

Cullen needed a drink. A really deep sup of something tasting like blackcurrant, honeysuckle and well, brandy. Cabot had promised to hide a bottle of West Hill under his desk in case Cullen would need something to take the edge off. He had sneered and thanked the man but now he was grateful for him.

The Inquisitor had left for the Storm Coast, to assist Sutherland and his company and recruit Iron Bull and his men - or figure out whether it was worth doing. The region might also offer resources and knowledge about the Grey Wardens. The Inquisitors party might discover something about recent Darkspawn activity near the coast.

When he had claimed the whole bottle from Cabot, who looked both surprised and pleased, maybe even a little concerned due to his sudden change of heart, Cullen slumped into a chair. He managed to bury himself under a thin yet mercifully numbing blanket of drunkennes before a door of the Heralds Rest opened and a merry group of mages poured in. They were already flowing past him, apparently counting on him being just another nameless solider of the Inquisition when Kinsey turned around and pulled Iselas sleeve.

 _"Is_ _this_ _seat_ _taken?"_

Isela asked and smiled. Cullen looked at her and stared at her tattoos longer than was proper. His mind worked at half speed and his thoughts were fuzzy. He waved her to sit and she took a chair, grabbing two others for Kinsey and Elman. They were ordering drinks and bickering about something. Isela huffed and rolled her eyes.

_"Some things never change, do they?"_

She asked and casually sipped from Cullens bottle. Elman and Kinsey sat down and the latter looked at Cullen with a thoughtful expression on his face.

_"So, Commander, how have our mages adjusted into the forces of the Inquisition? Something I should address to them: feedback, scolding or even cautious commendations."_

Kinsey asked and Cullen to had to stop and think his answer. He wouldn't have even dreamed about fighting side by side with mages few years ago, let alone training them to fight for his cause. But now it had proven to be worth all the misunderstandings and complexities.

_"They are doing fine job healing, training others and doing research. They've surprised me continuously with their discipline. The strike team you gathered has really carved a path through the Red Templars. I'd rather not face them in a battle to be honest. They're unnervingly efficient."_

_"Well we're fought against templars long enough to know how to outmatch them and not get crushed. Learning it cost us many good men and women. We actually picked this boy from one pile of smoked tin cans..."_

Kinsey had clearly forgot both to and of whom he was telling his story. Seeing both Cullen and Elman glaring at him, looking grim, made him fall silent.

_"Those tin cans were my brothers and sisters of arms, deluded and bloodthirsty maybe, but nevertheless. I grew up with them and we stood up for each other, fought together and buried more of us than was..."_

Kinsey touched his arm gently, with an apolitical expression on his face.

_"I'm sorry Em, I had to compartmentalize back then. Otherwise doing what I had to do to survive had broken me. And talking about our encounters, in a way I did, is an echo of that."_

Elman exhaled, touching his hand back reassuringly.

_"Don't worry about me, it's the Commander who might need an apology."_

Cullen beckoned it didn't matter. His headache started pushing through an anodyne fog the brandy had provided.

_"Commander, for me it seems that you and Dara are getting closer. What did you do to make her trust you? Not an easy task considering your track record. I would not put my trust into an ex-templar either."_

Kinsey retorted. He was clearly drawing a caricature of himself this time as he grinned over his ale. Elman scoffed nevertheless.

_"Nice to know."_

_"Oh shut up."_

Kinsey said and gave him a kiss on a cheek. Isela played with a dagger and pointed at Cullen with its tip.

_"I bet she trusts you enough for letting you thrust her."_

Isela said and laughed, long and heartily. Cullen blushed and snatched his bottle back.

Elman looked less amused. It was like Iselas dirty joke was both distasteful and hit closer to home than he'd liked. Cullen might spend too much time locked in his office but he had noticed the Inquisitor giving Elman cold shoulder. He thought Elman had brought this on himself when he changed the easygoing nature of their relationship and started treating her differently because she had become the Herald of Andraste. And now it seemed he regretted doing so.

_"I've fallen down from her graces."_

Elman said and Isela leaned closer to him, giving him a prickling stare.

_"You started treating her like she was someone else. You had seen her power, her wit, how resourceful and brave she is and because of it all or despite of that you fucked her, shared your troubles and fears with her. And when some sanctimonious twat stamped her with a title of the Herald you changed the way you saw her. Not giving her credit for her actions and sacrifices but for some empty status..."_

Kinsey nodded, clearly agreeing with Isela. He looked thoughtful.

_"You know how she thinks that if Maker even exists he doesn't favor anyone over the other; Everyone is equally precious and has their own purpose. Whether they are Grand Clerics or some refugee woman dying when she is protecting her children from the outlaws, their life is as important."_

Isela snorted and added to Kinsey's testimony.

_"And if said title has anything to do with the Chantry I suppose she'd give it extra scrutiny. Have you heard this story of one Mother working in the chantry in Orlais? The story begins after the Fifth Blight and entwines with influx of Fereldan refugees pouring to Orlais, bringing overpopulation, disease, and famine with them to the poorer quarters of Val Royeaux. The Mother wanted to feed the refugees and the poor so she asked the Chantry for food. They didn’t reply right away and probably never intended to."_

Cullen raised his eyes from the etiquette of the bottle.

_"I've heard this story. I consider it to be an outstanding example of a personal faith working wonders even though the regimen is failing to fulfill its original purpose."_

Elman looked interested and he ordered Cabot to bring them new drinks. Cullen continued.

_"So this lady went on a shrewd hunger strike along with her entire chantry, giving all the food meant for them to the poor of Val Royeaux. This shamed the Chantry into finally sending food to this Mother but with instructions on how to distribute it: firstly to the people of the chantry to end the hunger strike, then to Orlesian peasants, then the Feraldan refugees and lastly to the elves in the alienages."_

Isela laughed heartily and clapped her hands. She continued the story.

_"The Mother said **screw** their instructions. She fed the poor ingnoring their race and nationality. This made her a beloved figure amongst the poor in Fereldan and Orlais, but it also destroyed all her chances to ever advance in her career - she had shamed the Chantry for not offering help after all. Remind me to kiss her cheek again whenever I shall bump into her, will you."_

_"So, this is why Trevelyan feels conflicted about being both the Herald and the Inquisitor?"_

Elman asked. Kinsey nodded.

_"There are as many beliefs as there are believers. Many of them think they know the truth better than others. Think about those living under the Qun. They probably assume that conquering our lands and converting us would improve our lives, give us steadiness and certainty. And what the Chantry did to the elvhen, was it supposedly a good deed? Even if it destroyed their culture, erased their history and drove them to live as outcasts or lurk in the alienages like the dregs of human cities. If that's not enough, what about the Tevinter then..."_

Isela stopped when Cullen almost pushed the table over as he remembered something. He certainly was a little drunk by now.

_"She said it to me. That she had no answers, no ultimatums, no divine knowledge. And either pretending she had legitimacy to rule or believing it herself, they would both make her just as bad as those committing heinous crimes against humanity just for the sake of following some thesis or 'higher purpose'. To be the Inquisitor, she felt like she needed people who'd promise to dethrone her if she was to lose perspective, understanding of disparity and multiculturalism or even her common sense; Keeping those questioning her ability to lead near might be crucial to her cause, success - even survival."_

Kinsey gave a laugh and patted his shoulder.

_"I take she counts on you to criticize her Inquisitoraliness whenever possible? To accuse her of being an apostate, being a constant risk of being possessed and giving the mages too much freedom."_

Kinsey remarked. Cullen looked zealless.

_"It's good to be trustful even if it's for being an uncharitable critic."_

Isela smiled. When the smile reached her eyes she looked younger and less resentful. Cullen had started to like her. Yes, she was always brining up the fate of her people but Maker knew she was entitled to do so. And she might look dangerous, even sullen at times but so did Dara. It was not like women were obliged to smile or be nice and delightful.

Elman took almost empty bottle away from Cullens hand and knit his brows.

_"To get back to Iselas previous assumption. I bet she might get ahead of herself. Though Trevelyan seems to genuinely like the Commander, I haven't seen her touching him as freely as let's say us, whom she has either slept with or... those she is otherwise close enough to show her affections freely."_

Kinsey stared at him for a while. The soliders and mages muttered and laughed in the background and the last candle died on the table.

_"You might be right. And we should probably let the Commander go and get some well earned rest."_

Cullen gave them 'good nights', rose up and shambled towards the door. Near the stairs leading to the tower in which his lonely office waited for him, Kinsey caught up with him.

_"Remember, if Dara gives you affection and shows her trust in a physical form, consider carefully before turning her down. That would insult her. Earning her trust doesn't have to lead into thrusting like Isela implied but Dara is a very physical being. So if your incipient friendship is to grow and blossom, let her close."_

And then he was gone. The night swallowed him quickly and when Cullen tried to see where he was heading, he noticed that Kinsey stayed in the shadows, avoiding detection. When Cullen closed his door, he wondered whether his past made him lurk in his own shadow too. He might be out there, standing in clear view but still avoid looking into the light, letting his true self out. He considered Kinsey's words: would he able to let anyone close even if he wanted? Had his disguise of strength and being impenetrable become an integral part of him?


	22. The light has fallen from the stars now we are sinking through the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greta Svado Bech (Ludivico Einaudi) - Circles

Storm Coast poured salty water over them day after day. Endless, persistent rain that made gear to chafe and killed the mood. At least if listening to Dorians complaining or watching Cassandra who did follow her in silence but looked so discomforted it was almost comical.

The Iron Bull had proved he’d likely be worth every coin they could afford to pay him. Many would protest letting a Qunari spy into their ranks but she preferred knowing whom to watch over. It was not like there could not end up having any spies amongst them hadn’t she invited them in.

And something in Iron Bull had pulled a string inside her, a harrowing sense of familiarity. This was a man whose well-adjusted exterior hid a storm that rattled his cage. To broke lose, oh, such a life-long captivity would leave indelible scars. Not that all his scars were hidden - he had plenty in the open.

Besides, having two warriors in the party was amazing. She could actually stand back every now and then and just admire their violent, fierce and precise dance filled with strength and grace. Too bad she preferred one certain mage to accompany her wherever she went. And most missions required having at least one party member who was fluent with rogue skills so...

_”Maybe I should consider ditching you from the party?”_

She threw a spiteful comment accompanied with a look that fitted her words towards Dorian when they walked away from the shore. Behind their backs the Hessarian blades collected their weapons and emptied their crests for they were to join the Inquisition. Dorian looked a little shocked and shut his mouth which was highly unusual.

This would be a long and tiresome trip.

——

"The Waking Sea, somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall."

Varric said. He was clearly homesick, gazing into the landscape like he could see a familiar shoreline if the fog would clear. Dara felt empathy for him yet she had a buried, nagging feeling of jealousy in her core.

She stood aside Varric on a cliff. It was the farthest end of this coast they would reach. And closest she'd been to her childhood home for an impossibly long time. But she could not say she unconditionally wished to return and step into the halls of her family ever again.

Whether she had any home left anywhere was open for an interpretation. Was Skyhold a home? The Circle surely never felt like home as it was her prison, sometimes even like a twisted place of torture.

There wasn't anyone special in this world who'd make her feel like home. Someone who could make her feel welcome and needed and unique. A person she'd take any chances to see, for whom she'd fight for wherever she went.

She felt rootless and hollow. To yearn someone, miss a place, pine for a long lost affection could drag a person down... but it also kept things real, anchored one into their life.

She floated, trying to grasp branches of friendship, affection, belonging in this stream others called the normal life. She had watched from sidelines so long she did not remember how to swim.

If she managed to keep her head on the surface, what was her destination, her harbor - the last, bright thought before falling asleep? Maybe she was an abandoned shipwreck that water would indifferently take as its own, if she'd let go and unite with the sea?


	23. So I broke all the bones in my legs and taught myself to stand alone again to become a better man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alive Like me - Start Again

Cullens neck was killing him. Rubbing it was not just a nervous habit of his. He did use it as a way to ease both emotional and physical tension when they built up, - not noticing the gesture most of the time. But rubbing his neck had became a part of his body language also when he was not especially stressed or out of his element.

He used to grouch over his desk when he sorted out reports, requisitions, and other paperwork concerning Inquisitions forces. He did not sleep well yet he carried his armor around daily and rarely exercised outside swordplay and other training. So the muscles supporting his head, ending up to his shoulders and upper back were like stiff stones - a statement of neglecting ones well-being.

Cullen had aggressive headaches, probably entwined with his addiction... but the sorry state of his muscles could not help. He leaned back in his chair and tried to make those damn sparkles flying behind his eyelids stop spinning. Maker, they could at least stay still. He felt a bit nauseous and pain thrummed inside his skull.

Dara knocked on his door. She had visited him several times after her return from the Storm Coast. During that time Cullen had noticed she always used a certain series of knocks. He had wondered whether she did that on purpose or unnoticed. He tried to straighten up but slumped back groaning as the pain hit him even harder and sharper.

Before he had time to say anything Dara had stridden next to him and kneeled to floor so that she could examine him better. She tried his forehead with her hand and apparently noticed it to be rather cold than hot and covered in notorious amount of sweat. His eyes were bloodshot and light hurt them as he tried to see Dara better.

_"Are you ill?"_

She sounded so concerned that in a better shape Cullen might have found it funny that this worried woman, who was holding his hand, was the same person who had screamed her lungs out just yesterday, cursing his stupidity and stubbornness.

_"It is my neck. It is so jammed I can neither turn my head nor anything else."_

Cullen managed to gnarl through his teeth.

 _"I_ _could help_ _\- that is if you'll let me._ _You have helped me in training my non-magical combat skills and backed up my crazy ideas in the War Table more than once..._ _So I could return the favor, right?”_

Dara asked. There was no spite in her voice, no poison, only a rare softness and compassion which filled Cullen with wonder once again. This woman was truly like the weather; You could try to predict its whims but every now and then it would surprise you anyhow. Either with a raging storm or soothing, gentle warmth.

_"I'll take any help I can get at this point."_

Cullen groaned and felt Dara slid her shoulder under his armpit and thrust upwards, lifting his weight mainly with her legs. Cullen was so limp Dara was shaking as she balanced him carefully while he tried to collect his legs under him and make them obey his commands.

_"There's no way I'll carry you up that ladder. I might be strong but I'm still a human. Maybe I should ask Bull to help..."_

Dara said and that made Cullen move. He gathered all his remaining strength and managed to climb the ladder and fall to his bed in a very ungracious manner. 

She helped him out of his coat and boots and he was grateful he had not forced himself to wear his armor today. Mere thought of opening all those straps made him dizzy. Dara sat to the edge of his bed and tried to find something from a small package she frequently carried on her hip. She pulled a small bottle of oil out and shook it.

 _"I usually keep this with me_ to moist dry hands or to treat minor wounds so that they don't scar so badly. But this will do."

The world was still spinning and Cullen felt very disoriented. He wondered what she was talking about. That was until she said with strictly professional note in her voice.

_"Take off your shirt."_

Dara waited for him to follow her instruction, seemingly unaware or indifferent about how improper the whole situation was. When he hesitated she let out a frustrated huff. He remembered vaguely that Kinsey had spoken about this sort of situation presentation itself at some point. As he glanced to Dara, Cullen realized she probably thought he did not appreciate her attempts to help him.

He tugged his shirt off and felt so uneasy he could not meet Daras eyes. Had he peaked her reaction he might have seen a spark of lust flickering in her eyes before she laughed.

_"Well aren't you a sight for a sore eyes. Now lay on your stomach and try to relax."_

She took his pillow and kept small, irritated noises as she tried to mold it into certain form. Then she wrapped his head with the pillow so that he could still breathe, but his neck was relaxed. That alone seemed to ease the pain a little.

She poured a small pool of oil onto him. The oil was so warm Cullen was sure she had heated it by magic a moment ago when she had played with the bottle. Surprisingly it did not matter. Then she set her hands down slowly to his back increasing pressure little by little.

Cullen thought it reminded him of how she had calmed scared horses down and it made him grin; He loathed himself for being this unable to cherish, or even bear, touch, closeness... He had been isolating himself from others so damn long, to avoid breaking apart, to be able to regulate the forces around him in order to protect his fragile veneer of competence.

Daras strong and _oh_ so skilled fingers had accompanied her palms as she tested ground both to examine the structure of his back and define most troubled areas or points... Maybe to try out the amount of force she could use without making him unnecessary uncomfortable. She set up a deliberate pace and used muscle just so much that her working was not too rough.

The sensation was heavenly. Cullen could feel his strained and stiff muscles giving up one by one. He hadn't realized how much he had yearned for a touch, a simple, easy touch of another person who was somewhat close to him and whom he could trust.

Dara stopped and Cullen had to muffle a disapproving noise he almost let out. He wanted her to go on forever.

_"Can I use a little help? Your back is impossible, like a pile of rocks. Some warmth could not hurt?"_

She asked and Cullen relaxed again. He felt like he'd let her to do pretty much anything to him had she asked. He murmured his approval and as Dara laid her eyes on him again he felt it.

That feeling was like lying in the pool of sun for hours, letting it's rays sink into skin and gradually warm every inch of it. Like sleeping on the top of a cooling masonry oven and basking in its after-heat. Both of those scenarios had pervasive effects yet they were definitely cozy.

He groaned and started to feel sleepy. Like his body had closed its gates from sleep but now, as they opened, the sleep rushed in with force. He was sweating so much he could see drops of sweat rolling to his sides and to sheets. 

Daras hands were like aptly heated stones when they moved around his back. She sat on his lower back and he vaguely rendered the intimacy of their position. This could be seen a way more sexual situation but he was too exhausted to stress about it.

It was simply good. Daras fingers massaged little circles where his spine and skull joined. Every round of pressure eased his headache and as she slid her fingers downwards the pain evaporated. She rounded her fingers along his scalp, behind ears, ending to his forehead near eyebrows. And starting over and over again until Cullen felt like he was a damn content dog enjoying someone rubbing its head so much it started to drool and gradually dozed off.

Eventually she stopped, climbed away from the bed and dried Cullen back with his shirt. Then she pulled his blanket over him and wrapped it around him so that it kept all the remaining extra warmth inside it. He was so close to losing his battle against sleep his attempts to express his gratitude ended up sounding like an unintelligble, sleepy mumble.

Dara climbed down the ladder and closed the door of his office; Before she had left the lower room, he was soundly asleep. He rested without dreams or interruptions - as he found out, thanks to a very strict note written by Inquisitor. It was hanging on his door and told that _no one_ should disturb the Commander today.


	24. Those who are dead are not dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coldplay - 42

Hello Commander,  
and Leliana, as you probably monitor all arriving or departing letters, in the Skyhold at least, as any good Spymaster would.

The Fallow Mire is a blast. Frigging undead in every puddle of water. Take a teacup and get undead fingers floating in it like a lump of sugar. My boots are probably ruined - for _real_ this time. Say hello to Sir Morris and ask him to order new footwear in advance. He knows my size and other preferences.

It's dark in here and air is constantly moist. Lingering fog and all the bushes which haven't died on this Makers forsaken swamp don't really improve the visibility. And lighting up some torch or lanterns brings the undead to the site like damn swarm of moths. 

We also found some strange beacons on our way to Avvar camp that Amund mentioned. He is an Avvar Sky Watcher who thought challenging the Inquisitions leader was cocky and a stupid misuse of power. In case our paths cross again I shall try to recruit him as an agent. No harm in having few Avvar resources and huge, barbarian warriors on out side? I could take some to my service at least - if you know what I mean.

About those beacons - nasty demons appear when using veilfire and igniting them. Knocked us down few times and Dorian has been an unusual nuisance after that. He complains the mud and rotted body parts have blotted his armor and given him a persistent rash all over his body. And boy he knows how to lament the most trivial matters. I love him but enough is enough.

A bright spot of the bog was a fight with a lunatic apostate and demons... Well not so much the fight itself but the loot; I found a neat battlemage armor though it's covered with Warden symbols, too much for my taste. Would look dashing on Dorian though, but he would probably ruin its sleeves the instant he laid his fingers on it and add some pointless straps and jewelry as decorative elements. Tevinter fashion never seizes to amaze me.

No sign of the Avvar camp yet but at least we have hopefully made the lives of these poor villagers a little better by destroying undead wave after wave. Such a miserable existence if you ask me but I doubt they have much choice. Could someone look into the matter and see if there is something more the Inquisition could do for them?

And guess what creatures lurk in these endless murky waters? Furious bogfishers and even one lonely, scabby bear. Maybe all those bears in the Hinterlands banished this poor bastard? I had no heart to kill it and I made my party to flee for miles to avoid the fight. Bull carried Sera between his horns and splashed forward like a water buffalo. Those two have been the merrymakers of this damned field trip so I'm glad I chose them to come along. Please tell Cass she won't miss a thing for not being here!

Let's hope rescuing these soldiers, as well as hacking some fingers off and cutting down this so called Hand of Korth will improve the morale and give us a more permanent foothold in this area. Wet and storm ridden but a foothold nevertheless, right?

As soon as I get home to the Skyhold I'll take a longest bath ever and never get my clothes this sticky and wet again. Maybe except my lingerie... Speaking of which, I look forward to our next chess match, if you can call my frantic struggle playing chess at all. 

You can even continue talking dirty to me. Yes I know you'd say that was never meant to sound like _that_. But it was clear your choice of words stemmed from bigger issue than my playing style. And besides that lapse took you aback enough for me to get a winning chance for once! So more dirty talk, that's an order.

Can I actually order something like that? It would be neat.

See you soon!

_Dara_


	25. It talks in tongues and quiet sighs, and prayers and proclamations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence + The Machine - All this and the heaven too

The Skyhold. This night its name felt more appropriate than ever before. Night was dark, clear and wind had blown the clouds away so stars were unusually bright and seemed to spark a little closer than usual.

Cullen stood on the battlements breathing fresh air deep into his lungs. As he admired a glowing belt that millions of stars created to the sky he heard someone humming on a lower level. He peaked down and saw the Inquisitor who was apparently returning to her quarters from the Heralds Rest. She seemed to be a bit tipsy and her steps carried an echo of lightheartedness. Dara looked at the sky and stepped around in circular patterns, hands open like wings. She smiled to the stars. 

Cullen felt something tighten inside his chest, he felt tenderness towards this forceful, beautiful and radiant, woman. It seemed like he should have been happy and content simply because she was part of his life. Yet he noticed some lingering sadness that had settled down into his heart. He seemed always want more from her than he was willing to ask, to risk actually pursuing. 

He could not put his feelings into words, not even sort out whether they were only lust entwined with the need of touch and physical closeness. Or did he want something that would leave him even more open to hurt, yet another failure or being rightfully rejected.

The Inquisitor was considered to be holy but she was more like a blazing, joyful spirit at the moment, as she danced and made little leaps when closing the entrance of the Great Hall. Cullen wanted to shout after her, steal her for himself even for a while. But who was he to ask for her presence and her light? Was he more worthy than others seeking for her attention? What were his intentions; They were not innocent or civilized, revolving around faith or duty, that much he had admitted to himself a long time ago.

Cullen could not be sure of himself. Not ask for anything he couldn't even admit needing. But he was sure of her. He trusted in her - believed in her. He had pledged himself both to their cause and to aid her however possible. And, like so many others in the service of the Inquisition, he might have worshipped her a little. Even though he knew how horrified Dara was of people looking at her like she was some kind of demigod.

He walked to a small chapel near the garden. And as he faltered, he prayed. When kneeling on a stone floor, closing his eyes and reciting _Transfigurations_ , he did not see a mysterious and distant vision of Andraste like years ago when his faith started to crumble. This woman was much more real, a closer and thus more familiar lantern in a night.

_"But the one who repents, who has faith unshaken by the darkness of the world._

_And boasts not, nor gloats over the misfortunes of the weak, but takes delight in the Maker's law and creations, she shall know the peace of the Maker's benediction._

_The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world, and into the next._

_For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, she should see fire and go towards Light._

_The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.”_


	26. I must become a lion hearted girl, ready for a fight, before I make the final sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence + The Machine - Rabbit Heart (Raise it up)

The Inquisition had received an invitation to the Winter Palace, a testimony of Josephines astonishing job as their ambassador, no doubt. Before attending a ball of any sort they needed to make some preparations in order to be presentable in front of the court. For time being Leliana and Josephine had thought it was best that the Inquisitor kept herself busy and continued her missions. 

As a former noblewoman she found it amusing how little they trusted her ability to sail close to the wind. She knew the underlining currents and knew how to adapt into the conditions surrounding her, whether they were the storms of mage rebellion or the whims of court approval. Maybe she could show them she had a few tricks up on her sleeve when the time came.

They had found a promising lead on Samson and it seemed to end up in some ancient elven ruins near the Emerald Graves. Cullen wanted to accompany them and much to her surprise Dara had approved his request almost without hesitation; In all that time they had spent arguing over everything considering the Chantry, mage rights, Circles or ways of the templars they had accidentally developed a long-lasting trust and mutual respect. Knowing that their different views about certain issues did not prevent them from working together and supporting each other made them a good team.

She chose a party that she knew would make her feel safe and also cheer her up. Whatever the Emerald Graves would throw at them, shit-talking with Bull and Dorian would surely help. And Cassandra could handle the Commander, she hoped. For such rational and seemingly calm man he sure as hell knew how to mope. They had not travelled together longer than few days in a row and she did not know what to expect.

When they reached the area it turned out to be a lush, green and staggeringly beautiful forest with versatile flora and fauna. The sunlight shifted through leaves, birds were chirping and it would have been easy to forget the whole world was falling down. That is if they hadn't found a body of a dead Chantry sister floating in a river just when Dara had started to feel like this could be an unusually pleasant journey.

Dara stopped to help her horse - a rock had stuck under its shoe. Dorian had insisted on staying with her; He had not left her side very often after Haven and Dara had found out it was pointless to argue with him. Most of the party did as she asked and left her behind. As they proceeded, they could hear her murmuring to her horse and chirping back to the birds. _The Inquisitor is quite cheerful today_ , Cullen thought as they rode over a hill covered in bushes and overgrown grass.

Suddenly the forest opened a little and they could see a small force of the Red Templars camping near the ruins of the temple. Too bad they were out in the open as well. Bull, Cullen and Cassandra defeated the corrupted templars - a fight was over almost instantly. When searching around in the camp they found a letter considering Samsons dealings in the area and stating that he had already traveled elsewhere. Cullen almost growled in frustration but said nothing.

They pushed forward, through the forest cover and found an entrance of the elven ruins. Inside the first room was a group of mages and tranquils captured by the Red Templars. They were tied down, beaten, starved and in need of all sorts of healing. Seeing them like that would have furrowed the feathers of their leader without any doubt. She looked already quite gloomy when she arrived, in the company of Dorian who lit up a fire in order to see the ruins better.

_"You just had to keep me from beating some reddish templar asses? Commander I presume this was your idea?"_

Until that moment she had been irritated only half-heartedly but then she saw the mages. They could see a small ball of fire flickering between her fingers and a little wisp of steam slid through her lips. Her visible anger turned fast into a unstable mix of confusion, shock and what seemed to be a pang of pain as she saw a black-haired man sitting near the farthest end of the room. Others had not even noticed him as he crouched in the shadows.

_"Adrien. You are alive!"_

Her companions looked at each other in confusion. Only Dorian seemed to recognize the name and he raised his hand signaling them to hold their position or even back down a little. Others gathered near him and Dorian hissed:

 _"He's her lover who was made tranquil for messing with another mage. Namely Dara._ "

Cassandra drew breath and they could see a rare glimpse of untamed emotion on her usually stoic face. It was compassion and sadness entwined together.

_"There could be more reds nearby. We should move the mages into safer location and give the Inquisitor some time. It's better that Cullen stays here with the Inquisitor since the mages could…"_

Cassandra started but Cullen huffed.

_"For the love of the Andraste, how many times do I have to say that I am not responsible of the every wrong-"_

Then he decided it was pointless to argue about this. Dorian looked torn between helping the mages as well as finding a better position to defend them all and staying with Dara, to support her as her friend. A sound of someone shouting in the woods made them burst into action. They decided to move the mages into a better hidden, somewhat collapsed part of the ruins and defend the slope leading to the entrance as long as possible.

_"Well hold them back Boss - give you as much time as we can."_

Bull shouted and Cassandra simply nodded her confirmation. Cullen followed their plan and found a position on the Inquisitors side.

It seemed like Dara had barely noticed the yelling qunari as she sat on the stone floor and held the man in her arms. He had long, black hair, pale skin, a noticeable nose that made him look like a bird of prey, high cheekbones, thick eyebrows - he had clearly been both handsome and very dangerous looking man. Now there was wear and tear everywhere. He was covered in dust and he had a nasty looking but probably non-lethal wound on his side.

His clothes were torn here and there and there was a sense of thinness both in his body and mind. Like he had kept on going not knowing why, not caring about anything and eating barely enough to survive. Dara touched his chest and a green light of her mark flickered and became so bright Cullen didn't see anything for a moment. It was like an explosion without a bang or following destruction.

_"Dara, is it really you?"_

The Inquisitor gasped and Cullen stared in confusion. The man before him had just been lifeless, cold, distant - an useful body and mind but without any traces of soul, ambitions or emotions. And now it seemed the magic on Daras mark had somehow awoken that husk of a man back into life. _Adrien_ , that's what she had called him, took Daras face between his hands and they just stared at each other.

The emotion on both their faces was so raw it sent chills down his back. He'd never seen the Inquisitor like this. He doubted few had. Cullen could hear them breathing and wondered if he was standing too close after all. Whether he witnessed something too painful and personal. But he reminded himself that he was supposed to protect the Inquisitor from the Red templars and this newfound ex-lover alike. If needed he'd happily die for her. The thought surprised him and he promised himself to think it through. Later.

_"It's me - but how is this possible? You... you... were. You were made -"_

It seemed Dara could not finish her sentence as if even saying it aloud would tore all the old wounds open.

_"I were and I am. I don't have my magic anymore neither I'm the same man you know. I am like a shell that was supposed to be empty but somehow you found the last hidden spark in it.”_

Adrien looked her in a such devoted way Cullen could almost see them together, as lovers and partners in crime, hoping for change and better times, all those years ago.

_"I missed you so damn much. Not a day went by without me thinking what I could have done to save you."_

Dara said, still breathing heavily like there was not enough air for her. When she got to the latter part of her confession there was so much quilt in her voice -- Maker, Cullen wanted to grab her and make her believe there was never anything she could've done. And he didn't even know what had happened.

_"You would have gotten yourself killed and put all the other mages in the Circle in danger had you tried to save me."_

Another type of pain paid a visit to her face but she seemed to push the thought away. She caressed Adrien's features and let her hand slide to his body. Adrien let out a small laughter with no happiness in it. Then he kissed her. At first it was gentle. Like he barely knew how you kissed someone. But then it turned into a desperate kiss with so much loss, sorrow and longing poured in it Cullen had to look away.

He could hear the templars coming. Their shouts and rumble they made invading the forest were still distant but closing in fast. The grove surrounding the ruins was otherwise unnaturally quiet, birds had left the area and horses were restless inside the room they had been hidden. The Inquisitor was always protective over their animals and they had followed her suit now that she was unable to lead them into the oncoming battle.

_"You had to keep yourself and Lily out of harms way or this had all been pointless."_

Adrien said when they finally ended the kiss. Daras eyes were bloodshot and she looked like even a sword stuck between her ribs would not make her let Adrien go.

_"Where's Lily anyway?”_

Adrian asked and Cullen held his breath. He should not know who this girl in question was - for a long time he wasn't even sure whether those dreams of his were related to the events of the real life.

_"Too dangerous for her here. But she's become a powerful mage, controlling lightning like she's a storm itself. She is both a beauty and little heartbreaker too."_

Adrien gave out a small laughter, a voice so out of place it made Cullen flinch but Dara managed to smile a little.

_"She's going to have so much better life than us. Free, happy and raising her own children whether they are mages or not”._

Adrien said and the thought seemed to make him happy. Cullen had rarely witnessed Dara to lie, maybe never. But after a short moment of confusion he realized she was just saving the feelings of a dying man. She would carry this pain alone, like so many others before and Cullen found himself hoping she'd share her burdens with someone. Anyone.

The fight started outside. They could hear the monstrous noises of the behemoths and Bulls roar when he charged himself into the pit of the fight. Dara glanced outside and the worry was imminent on her face. It was like she had only now remembered where she was and what happened around her. Adrien looked very gentle and young when he looked at her and said:

_"Don't feel sad or think there is an actual choice to make; There's nothing left of me. Had you been anyone else, I wouldn't have recognized you or at least felt anything. I'm broken beyond repair but your new family can be saved. Based on the way you worry about them, they are like a family to you, aren't they?"_

He kissed Dara again, now shortly and stroked her hair. His voice was so tired, thin and deeply sad.

_"Yes they are. - - I'm so, so sorry."_

Dara seemed to barely hold herself together. She started to shake and Cullen could feel a little tingling when her magic pushed itself on the surface and pulled back inside in the same rhythm as her body shivered.

_"Don't be. If there's mercy of the Maker anywhere in our damned lives, meeting you, loving you and this unexpected chance to say goodbye have made my darkness so bright."_

Dara couldn't hold her tears back anymore. They ran all over her face, ended up on her armor when she blinked rapidly. Cullen figured she could barely see Adriens face but he pulled her even closer to his body.

_"Let me go when I still have this piece of me. I'm fading away again."_

Dara tried to protest but Adrien kept going as if he had to get explain this at once.

_"After all, you promised to do this a long time ago if they'd ever make me a Tranquil. But you never did. I’m neither angry at you for breaking your promise nor bitter. But I've lived in this void long enough. Let me free."_

There was a pleading note in his voice. It looked like Adrien would collapse if his limbs weren't already overlapping with Daras and if they weren't an entwined clump on the floor. Dara pulled back a little. She was clearly terrified.

_"You're really making me do this? I can't even leave to help my friends, because I fear you'd be gone when I returned."_

She seemed to get angry - to herself for being so weak or to him for asking this or both, Cullen couldn't tell.

_"I was not able to keep my promise then - why I'd be able to do it now?"_

She cried still, silent tears dripping to floor, like all the pain would keep on flowing out of her body drop after drop.

_"I am gone, you'd just give me a chance to choose my way of going, I know you have the strength and love for doing that. You always had and you still do."_

They measured each other for a moment and both Cullen and Adrien could probably read from Daras position that she was bracing herself for doing what she had to. Adrien stiffened and it looked like he was going to lose himself at any moment. His voice was almost whisper.

_"I want you to be happy, love, find peace and embrace your magic. Whomever you choose to love, I hope they will know how special you are. Just remember me, will you?"_

_"Always."_

Dara sobbed and Cullen could see her drawing something from her side. At first he thought it was a dagger but soon he realized it was a blade made of so hot and pure fire it was almost white. The flame was shaped like a cutter and she plunged her weapon deep into Adrien chest, thrusting it upwards and burning through flesh, muscles, veins and organs like they were smooth wax. Adrien collapsed to the floor.

Dara rested her head on his bloodied chest and it was like she'd died with him, so silent and still she had become. Cullen didn't have the courage to try comforting her because he was afraid she'd shatter to pieces when touched. It was such an irrational fear but kept him afar even so. He couldn't tell how long they'd stayed like that if Dorian hadn't shouted outside. That made Dara woke up from her grief and stumble up. 

She looked at him and in her eyes he could see all that hatred she had kept partially buried, under the veil of politeness and indifference when they faced those who were or had been part of the Order. To see that pain, hate and blame she harbored towards templars thrown at him hurt more than he'd have anticipated.

She stared at Adrien last time and let out a shriek everyone of them likely remembered until the end of their days. It was a voice out of this world, like a haunted spirit or some tormented soul from beyond the Veil had taken her place. 

Then she ran outside. They could now see Dorian, who seemed to be injured, Cassandra whose shield and sword were covered in blood and sweaty and roaring Bull who was defending Dorian. But when those fighting for her saw the Inquisitor, they scattered to the edges of the slope and pulled back into the ruins as swiftly as they could. 

The Inquisitor burned every leaf, Red Templar and even some rocks on that slope as she bursted out an all consuming flame. She was screaming when the flame shot from her hands and Cullen who retreated into the ruins the last could have sworn she breathed flames as she cried out. The heat struck into the temple and Bull looked terrified by the amount of pure magic the Inquisitor let out... which was highly unusual; The Ben-Hassrath spies rarely showed their feelings, Cullen suspected. 

 _"She's just a divine creature. But that kind of power, all that love and ability to rise from the ashes of all you ever cared about, they are both a blessing and a cursed thing to carry._ ”

Dorian muttered under his breath. 

_"In your heart shall burn an unquenchable flame. All-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, and to the Fade you shall return, each night in dreams. That you may always remember Me."_

Cassandra recited as she watched the flames die.

Dara stood alone in the field of smoke, ash, bones, pieces of armor and stones that crackled into bits as they cooled down. She walked away and disappeared into the fog the fire had summoned into the valley.


	27. And I will stay up through the night - let’s be clear, I won't close my eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sia - Elastic Heart

The Inquisitor had asked all of those who had accompanied her to that damned trip to Emerald Graves to _shut_ _up_ _about_ _it_. Strictly and personally. They had promised and kept her secret as no-one talked about that day as far as Cullen could tell. Not even to Varric which seemed to drive the storyteller to the gates of madness since he could smell a story hidden someplace near but not hear a word of it.

Dara did not visit him anymore. She hardly said anything to him on their trip back to Skyhold either. She had showed up in the meeting with her advisors but even then she had been absent-minded and tepid. It had continued for a week now and he'd thought she would come around when she was ready. He knew she was supposed to equip their entourage to the Winter Palace and he suspected it kept her busy.

He had to admit he missed her terrible puns, their discussions about the Inquisition and even his doomed attempts to teach Dara some basics of chess. Deep down he felt a bit neglected. And he thought it was unfair. To avoid him because he had been there and seen Adriens last moments. Or because the templars had ripped away yet another of her loved ones. Cullen knew he had done some terrible things in his life - mostly by letting others mistreat those he should have protected. But he did not do this!

Meeting the Inquisitor and having this strange connection with her - yes, they had been building a tentative friendship but this was something more. Something _different_ starting from the dreams he had been having and ending up with the way she touched a young and idealistic part of him.

It had forced him to admit that siding with the mages, saving the world by defeating Corypheus or being however friendly with some mages - no amount of making amends or talking about redeeming himself could help those mages made tranquil, raped, mistreated or those who had to turn to demons in their despair. Neither it could ease the pain inflicted to their families and loved ones.

Dara had thrown this fact to his face over and over again. It made him open the doors. That had poured all that quilt, compassion and every colour of suffering inside. He was stuck with angry ghosts of his past now; He had thought she'd at least visit his personal purgatory every now and then. But she seemed to have let all those specters in and locked him to deal with them all alone.

He laid his quill down and stood up. She should at least tell him whether she was gone for good or temporarily avoiding him. He marched through the battlements. It was getting cold, small snowflakes drifted in the air and wind bit his face. He was thankful to his coat and the gloves the Inquisitor had gifted him. He clenched his hands into the fists. Why spend all that time with someone and give gifts and leave an impression that you cared about someones well-being if you were just going to throw it away?

He was filled with resolution; He should at least get an explanation. But when he had reached the Great Hall every drop of his vigor had evaporated and he felt like a thief knocking on her door. It was silent for a long time and he almost left when the door opened and Dorian peaked out. He looked a bit messy: mustache ruffed and hair in disorder.

_"Commander, come in, I could use you right about now."_

Cullen considered turning back as something cold spread in his heart and stomach. _He should not make assumptions... but_... He managed to look indifferent and followed Dorian up to the stairs. Inquisitors chamber was almost dark and only few candles burned on the table. The room was warm, actually almost hot, and Cullen had to take his jacket off right after stepping in.

_"What's going on?"_

He asked, maybe with an unnecessarily hard tone when Dorian opened one of the smallest windows just enough to get a breeze of fresh air.

_"Da... The Inquisitor has been ill for a couple of days. She made it through some meetings and your War Table-evening which was apparently the last straw. She's been in a bed constantly after that. She could barely walk on her own afterwards and I'm under the impression that the reason wasn't as nice as it could have been."_

Dorian was again implying something impish. That was quite common and most of the time Cullen did not bother to think about underlined meanings. He had spent suprsingly much time with the Tevinter mage lately and learned that behind his dirty jokes and shameless flirting one could learn such things about him he'd never tell to anyone otherwise. 

 _"Does Cassandra know? And Leliana? What kind of illness is it?"_  

Cullen asked and felt bad. Dara might have avoided him for couple of days. But she could have avoided everyone else too. And she had been ill for few days without him knowing because he had been too busy with his sulking. 

_"Yes they know. And so does the healer who recommended some sort of herbal tea that smells horrid, bed rest, uneventful days and warmth. She has just some common cold.”_

Dorian explained and Cullen could feel his concern ease a bit.

_"She has a high fever though and she told me her fevers have spiked as long as she's able to remember. She requested my company so I have hardly left her side since the day before yesterday."_

As Cullen watched Dorian more closely he could see dark under eyes and he figured the extra mattress he had probably used wasn't very comfortable. Dorian seemed to follow his line of thought since he continued his explanation:

_"I've been up almost all nights since the incident in Emerald Graves because Dara's been having some terrible nightmares. Her dreams have been bad for a long time and Solas and I have been doing some research to find out why she dreams so vividly. But she is getting better, besides this cold and the feverish deliriums of course."_

Dorian paused and sighed when he saw himself in a mirror.

_"She seems to prefer my dashing presence over being alone or with anyone else... but at this point I could really use a bath and some sleep, maybe even a glass of wine. I've been at her side almost a week, pretty much around the clock..."_

Dorian sounded so quilt-ridden Cullen had to pat him to the back. 

_"You have done more than anyone could expect. I'll watch over her until you are refreshed. Don't worry.”_

He heard himself saying even though he did not know whether the Inquisitor wanted to see him at all. Dorian collected some things and gave Dara a kiss to forehead. He left and Cullen sunk into an armchair nearby the massive bed which was positioned in the middle of the room. Dara was asleep and buried under a huge pile of blankets. There seemed to be a rune near her legs and Cullen took it carefully. There was a note wrapped around it that said:

 _Something to keep you warm._  
_Get well soon._  
_Yours Dagna._

He smiled when the rune radiated warmth in his hands. He slid the rune under the blankets and realized Dagna was not the only one who had tried to help the Inquisitor get - or at least feel, better. On the night table was a colorful collection of thoughtful gifts. There was a bottle of some strong alcohol saying on a note:

 _This burns it away._  
_Chargers._

A bottle of aromatic oil stood near the Hirol's Lava Burst and Cullen knew Cassandra used this particular stuff for up-keeping her gear. Maybe it had some other uses too. A large pot of honey had a large etiquette decorated with hand-drawn bees. It was opened - Dara was known for her sweet tooth, and even though the pot had no name in it he guessed its origin as well.

A small wooden _Ghost_ decorated the table and a large vase had been filled with flowers. He had no idea what kind of magic had been used to make them bloom at this time of the year. Some books had been piled to another table and he figured Varric had read them to Dara; She always asked for him to read to her, because an author could add something more to the story, but he rarely said yes.

An amulet was wrapped around a picture and left to Daras drawer likely to be found later. The drawing pictured Adrien with a gentle yet playful half-smile on his face and the amulet had drawings of Dara and Lily inside it. The note under the amulet said: _Sorry for trespassing, your song is so loud and clear._

Beside the Inquisitors bed a large box of chocolates was accompanied by even larger box of the smallest and cutest cakes possible. There was also a small decorated pouch filled with the same sweetly scented herbal tea Dara had given him. If it helped with this kind of disease as ably as it eased his pain, it was a generous gift.

He knew that if the knowledge of Daras illness had spread more widely than to the members of her inner circle, advisors and closest friends, she'd be showered with gifts, notes and those who wished to help her personally. So many cared for her, even loved her. She had said to Adrien that she considered these people to be her family and it seemed they returned the sentiment. He wondered whether he was part of the family since he had not even known Dara was ill.

Dara sprung up in the bed all the sudden and interrupted his thoughts. She seemed to be in a distress so Cullen sat on her bed. She looked right through him and muttered something. Only when he carefully touched her hand she seemed to really wake up.

_"Cullen? Well this is a surprise."_

She said after staring him for a while. 

_"The Commander in my bed, in the middle of the night and without his usual armor. As if that's not scandalous enough, it seems we are all alone!"_

_"Well considering the Inquisitor has been sleeping with a son of a Tevinter magister almost a week now, this won't make itself even to the list of most juicy gossip around here."_

He answered and felt astonishingly relieved she wasn't angry at him.

_"Have you been avoiding me? Everyone of any importance to me have visited except you and I have wondered whether…"_

She asked and then she had to cough so hard the tears rose into her eyes. At that point Cullen noticed he was still holding her hand, almost panicked and tried pulling his hand away. Dara did not let his hand escape but squeezed his fingers and stroked his palm instead. Dara pulled herself closer to the edge of the bed and leaned on Cullen. She felt so warm against his body even though he was wearing a sturdy woolen tunic. It was like he had sat very close to the fireplace.  

_"I have not avoided you, I've just buried myself under my work without a certain Inquisitor dragging me out of my office every now and then."_

Cullen explained and Dara seemed to accept the answer as they fall into silence. The fire crackled and the wind howled outside. It was a cold and clear night and Cullen could see stars and a snow-covered mountaintop from here.

_"Would you mind pouring me some water? It's awfully hot in here."_

Dara barked. Her voice wasn't its usual playful and loud self but rasped and rough. Cullen stretched himself towards a water can and filled a glass. When turning back towards Dara the blanket she had been wrapped in slid down and Cullen realized she was wearing only the thinnest nightgown he had ever seen. The gown was sweaty and licked her body revealing the curves of lush breasts and shoving her areola clearly through it. Cullen drew a sharp breath and Dara tried to laugh when she saw his bewildered expression. The attempt ended in another fierce series of coughs.

" _Oh, blushing templars, my absolute favorite."_

She teased when she had recovered from her fit of cough. Somehow this so familiar form of communicating eased the tension in Cullens body and made it easier to control the reaction Daras body had started in his breezes.

_"And as you said, Dorian has been busy taking care of my needs day and night. He's becoming quite a good maid - he even helped me to bath."_

Dara said that with only a hint of laughter in her voice and Cullen blushed to the image. Both the visualization in his head and the whole amount of impropriety her story implied didn't stop the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears. The Inquisitor seemed to notice his growing discomfort and mercifully drew the blanket back to its place. She laid down and snuggled near to his side, resting her head on his lap. 

_"Josephine must have been in such pain after hearing about your arrangement with Dorian?"_

Cullen asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He could feel the coldness creeping inside his body again. The Inquisitor might be quite ill now but all that intimacy between her and Dorian... He had been wondering so long, he had to pry even though he hated himself for that.

 _"Oh she Does! But I told her I would either resign myself or die of this cold unless she'd let me keep my loyal manservant. Dorian was there and he sounded just like Cassandra when he snorted. You should have heard!_ "

Daras mouth was curved to smile and Cullen find himself staring into her tired looking eyes and moist lips like he had forgot the original line of questioning and wanted just to be here. Whether the Inquisitor had chosen a mage lover or not.

_"What happened then?"_

He managed to ask.

_"Well I told Josephine that we, namely myself and Dorian, haven't been fucking, aren't fucking or never will be fucking each other if that's her primary concern. So no scandalous half-Tevinter mage-babies."_

Dara stopped and looked somewhere afar before she finished her story.

_"Josephine promised to keep our nursing-arrangement secret and do all damage control her connections and reputation would permit. Dying of cold wouldn't be an option, or so I heard."_

Cullen was silent for a long time, sorting out the things Dara had shared so casually. He was still curious for her reasons for not getting involved with Dorian. Not that he wished them to do it. He knew Dara had plenty of dalliances elsewhere so why not with a man she clearly loved and trusted. Was it because of they were both nobles and Dorian was supposed to get properly married. Maybe the Inquisitor should marry at some point too, in order to form some alliance. Making their relationship more physical would complicate things - even result to pregnancy as she had said.

Dorian was clearly handsome and if he didn't want Dara he'd have to be… Something clicked in his head and he felt gravely stupid. He was positive most of their companions had figured it out a long time ago. Dara had been examining his face closely and a knowing smirk spread to her face. For once, maybe the first time ever, she let the witty remarks be. Cullen was grateful for that.

He thought Dara had fallen asleep. It had been almost half an hour since she had talked last time. Cullens limbs started to go limp and he had to fight against the sleep. He positioned himself better, claiming more space in the bed and grabbing one pillow to support his neck.

_"I'm sorry about the Graves. That was not your doing... But... well, you should know where I'm coming from."_

Dara said and turned her head so that she could see his face. The candles had burned to their end a while ago and only moonlight illuminated the room. Her face was covered in the shadows and seeing her like this reminded Cullen of the dreams he had seen lately. She turned away and started breathing heavily. It seemed like unsaid things had kept her anchored here and stopped her entering the land of dreams.

_"We both have some baggage. To say the least"_

He said dryly, wondering whether she even heard that anymore. And then the sleep swallowed him like a rope had snapped over the stage and a thick curtain had fallen over his thoughts.

....

Cullen woke up to Dorians howling. 

_"You really took my instruction for comforting the Inquisitor quite seriously, Commander."_

Dorian mocked and Cullen noticed he had slid down along the wall and ended up lying in the highly Inquisitorial bed in a very ungracious position. Dara was still asleep and completely unaware of the way her nightgown had climbed her thigh in an exceedingly imposing manner. His hand had been located under Daras back and ended up to her waist. Her hand was thrown over his hip. Their legs were overlapping and as they faced each other his other hand was awfully close to resting on Daras breast.

Cassandra stumbled into the room and stopped. She opened her mouth, closed it and did this routine once again before glaring at Dorian who had slumped into the armchair and dried the tears from his eyes. The mage was _giggling_.

_"What in the Makers name…"_

Cassandra started a sentence she seemed to be unable to finish, no matter how hard she tried. Cullen figured he had reddened, probably from head to toe. He struggled himself out of the bed and on his feet so fast he dropped Dara down a little too roughly. The Inquisitor was blessed with almost unrealistic ability to sleep in the middle of storm, battle or quarrel and she didn't let them down even now. She flashed a little too much cleavage when she turned to her back and _that_ was his cue to leave. 

He could hear Dorian bursting into laughter again and Cassandras most disgruntled voice when his escape proceeded with extensive leaps, down the stairs and through the hall where luckily only few people were starting their morning chores. He was mortified when he thought for how long he would hear about his embarrassing retreat.


	28. Right now masquerade, master the merry go round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicki Minaj - Masquerade

She looked stunning. Cullen had no idea she could look that _royal_. He did find her alluring even when she came back from battle, covered in dust, sweat, blood and minor injuries, fatigue showing in her movements.

When he first saw her stepping into the ball he had to look away after a moment as he feared he was staring like a complete fool. This sort of woman he had seen only from afar. Those nobles that had ventured into Skyhold were dressed up in modest way compared to pomp and brilliance of the attires that people carried in the Winter Palace. And in Kirkwall he had avoided meddling with nobles as much as possible. And in the Free Marches the nobility was never as extravagant as in Orlais.

The Inquisitors dress was a combination of armor and gown. It had black tights but they were cowered with a shorter hem frontside and full tail on the back. The hem was so dark shade of green it looked almost black in the shadowy parts of the palace. The bodice was figure-hugging and it had cups that pushed Daras breasts both upwards and closer together. It revealed majority of her back, including the large white tattoo of a tree, covering most of her back with its branches, and parts of her shoulders. Her arms were also bare - if few golden chains wrapped around them did not count.

The dress had a wide belt, covered with embroidery with gold: in the pattern both the heraldry of Inquisition and Free Marches were present if one would examine it closely. The upper part of the dress was made either of very thick fabric or the thinnest leather and it was also of a dark shade of green, being closer to emerald than moss. Daras knees were covered with metallic pieces of armor that resembled horse heads.

The necklace, that had actually belonged to the Inquisitor herself even before the Conclave, was crafted of large golden plates. Hanging in the middle of it was yet another horse. A family heirloom, undoubtedly. Metallic shoulder pads, shaped as rounded leaves and assembled of three parts, so that the smallest of leaves was on the top and the largest one covered her shoulder, decorated her dress and made it more armor-like. A dozen of light, golden chains dangled between the leaves on different heights.

The Inquisitor had a maid, an elven girl she had met in Haven. Dara had trusted her with various tasks starting with taking care of her gear and ending up with sorting through her correspondence and advising her about horticulture in which she was skilled at. This time she had done her hair, making her usual warriors ponytail look much more stately. The hair was gathered into six bundles that rose upwards on her forehead and they made her hair look almost like a copper crown. Those bundles were twined into one large braid that circled her head, ending in her neck. Rest of the hair formed a chignon which was held in its place with a large, golden comb shaped as the symbol of the Inquisition.

She didn’t have much more make-up than usually, since she liked to use some eyeliner anyway and she could not stand anything sticky on her lips. But Josephine had made her to use some perfume that was stronger than the scent she tend to wear.

When Dara walked into a room she made heads turn. Her forceful, almost intimidating way of walking Cullen had used to - it had made him think that she was a warrior when he saw her the very first time, it had changed into graceful gliding. When Dara spoke, she sounded like any other noble around her and even the boisterous laugh of hers was more composed.

It was like she was herself but at the same time she had become a softer and more suave version of the Inquisitor he knew. There was an aura of power around her but the imminent hazard of fiery explosions had evaded whereas a cunning and devious sort of threat remained. For a passing moment she reminded him of Leliana, pulling strings and forcing faiths of others from the shadows. The thought made him shudder - he respected Leliana but didn’t particularly like her.

It had been a long way to the Winter Palace, even thought they were able to use the Imperial Highway. As they approached the Halamshiral he could see Dara pulling herself under a calm veneer. In two weeks she had gone from a rebellious mage activist into a discreet and debonair noblewoman. He wondered whether he should think her change as an evolution or moving backwards in time.

She stood in front of him and all she spoke of were mastery, schemes and how to exploit usurpers. The Game had sucked her in and Cullen feared for her - would she master this new area or would it become her fall? She had fought against all the odds right from the start but would her wit and good luck help her here? The water was full of sharks and even he could tell they would not hesitate to tear her apart.

The court and other quests of Winter Palace whirled around them, dressed up in all colors and varieties of silk, gold, finery. Most of them wore masks and in a way he felt like he was trying to squint and find familiar faces of his friends even though their features were seemingly bare and visible.

Cullen remembered how Dara had returned from the Exalted Plains. She had been covered in mud, her arm twisted in a nasty fall, and he could actually smell a smoky scent that came from her head - the Gamordan Stormrider had burned a few inches of her hair. But even then, gliding down from her horse she looked triumphant. In her eyes had been sadness for the Dalish who struggled to preserve the remains of their people and culture. She'd done all she could but she felt guilty for not being able to do more. She thought the Inquisition should correct at least some wrongs the Chantry had done in the past. Yet she had her burdens she had been as lively, wanton and racy as ever. He knew, or hoped, that the one-of-a-kind spark of hers was still in here, maybe hidden, but ready to light up when they would get out of here.

This was no place for him. His current title had raised up an interest amongst the nobles but the feeling wasn't mutual. He responded to their inquiries as shortly as possible yet they kept on coming onto him: when one got tired of his seemingly poor social skills another took their place.

The Inquisitor had asked him to dance with her, possibly to help him to brush off those courting him - a sentence he would not thought of saying... But he had built such an effective routine of rejecting the dance partners he managed to shut her down before he even realized what he was doing. He felt mortified afterwards. Not that he wanted to dance, Maker knew he didn’t, but he would have welcomed a distraction and some time alone with the Inquisitor.

~~~

Oh how she _loved_ this. The gossiping, scheming, political murders, affairs, sexual tension and greed for power that she was suddenly able to witness, even contribute into the events and maybe, hopefully, change their course.

And yet she knew she had been so long and far away from this kind of life - not that her life as the daughter of a noble house had been this grandiloquent, she was already able to tell that she could not truly fit in anymore. She knew too well how people all over the continent suffered from poverty, illness, tyranny, oppression and injustice. How elves, surface dwarfs, mages and even refugees alike were treated like second class citizens and how those who rose to power soon forgot those who were supposedly under their protection.

That didn't seem to disturb Josephines family reunion and while she was looking out for a way to prevent the assassination attempt Vivienne was grasping for power as always. Leliana worked in these shades as fluently as anywhere and Dorian was at home amongst nobility. Sera had vanished and Dara suspected that the knowledge she had promised to collect from those serving in the Winter Palace would turn out to be invaluable.

When she found Cullen she had to turn around and walk away in order to collect herself. She was very close to letting out a hysterical burst of laughter only because the usually indimitating commander of the Inquisition looked so defeated. This was despite the fact that a wave after wave of nobles was crushed against the fortress of his indifference.

Had she managed to calm herself she assumed a position from which she could observe him. Cullen was handsome in his uniform, there was no denying of that even though he looked a little weird without his usual armor. He looked smaller, sleeker and well, lost. It made her wonder how well he could even remember being a boy who grew up in a farm, without orders, without being part of a larger institution, without his armor, sword and shield.

Dara liked his smile. It made him look younger, lifted a shadows of personal struggle off his face for a while and, she had no trouble admitting that, made her feel a little prurient. She had wondered whether he’d be as passionate towards those he courted as he was about his work and duty. Not that she could picture Cullen courting anyone with letters, flowers, gifts or other grand gestures. He’d be all about companionship, protection and sharing...

She shook off an images of Cullen’s face, looking at her like he would like to shield her from pain or enemies. Dara had seen him staring her like that in the Haven and after it, in the Emerald Graves and sometimes when she had been freaking about her role as the Herald or more recently about being the Inquisitor.

He had no right to assume she would either need or want his protection. And clearly he knew that as he was quick to withdraw his intentions. Maybe both of them were too stubborn, self-reliant, prejudiced and thought things thorough overly much. However this was not the time for such thoughts, neither was her whole life as it seemed. There was ever nor there would ever be a chance for her to hope more than casual coquetries. At first she was a noblewoman supposed to marry properly, then a drifting apostate mage and now a unheralded head of the Inquisition.

So she put on a brave face, looking as pulchritudinous as she could and glided through the nobles to deliver her report concerning their progress as discreetly as possible. When she got closer she realized few noblewomen trying to coax the Commander. After she had dispelled them with a glare that made them scatter like a flock of scared hens she playfully questioned Cullen about his wooers. He blushed and looked mortified.

_”Not enjoying the attention then?”_

She asked and the truest smile that had risen to her face the entire evening made Cullen expression look… relieved, for some reason. His response made her smile melt away as it was replaced with a short moment of bafflement.

_”Anyway, yours…yours is the only attention worth having.”_

The way he said it, like he was pleading her to stay - maybe to literally stand beside him and keep the crowd afar, but she felt it was not the case, rather than savoring this moment of easiness between them. And she felt bad putting on her mask again and leaving him under the mercy of the merciless. The nobles whom he did neither know nor want to get familiar with.

She walked away and for a few steps it felt like the thinnest string was _pulling_ her back to him, until the connection broke and she vanished between those keeping up a facade of fine and dandy.

~~~

It was over. Celene and Briala's relationship was reconciled and Celene would maintain her place on the throne - for time being at least. She would rule Orlais with Briala's support. It had been a chaotic day of blackmailing, dead servants, fighting Venatori, wraiths, shades and several demons.

The court was buzzing, everyone talked about Gaspards plot and Floriannes disgrace. The Inquisitor had made herself the belle of the ball and become the pet of the court, despite the fact that she was a mage as well as she was a noblewoman. It should have been a major victory but it felt like a small accomplishment.

She felt like she needed to get away from here, to rest and be herself again without someone constantly judging her. After Morrigan left she couldn’t do anything but lean to the railing of the balcony and concentrate on breathing steadily: inhaling through the nose and exhaling through mouth. She thought of the orchard outside the Trevelyan estate. It had been her hiding place as a child and imagining herself sitting in the old apple tree, hidden behind the leaves, with birds and squirrels as her company, calmed her down.

Someone stepped onto the balcony and she sighed. So much for a moment of peace. She straightened up but seeing Cullen made her ease up a little.

\---

Cullen hesitated under the arch leading to balcony. He admired the way the dress hugged Dara's waist, how her hair reflected natural light and as she turned to face him he found his anxiety easing and his heartbeat steadying. She had that effect on him, for some unknown reason. Like coming home after a long day of struggle and hardship.

He positioned himself next to her, leaning to the stone railing, realizing how easy it was to be physically this close to her, almost like they had known each other forever or were lovers or…

_“There you are. Everyone’s been looking for you."_

Dara smiled a little.

"To be honest I'm happy they haven't found me. It's been quite a busy party."

Cullen wanted to reach out and - come to think of it he did not know what he'd be able to offer her. But she had been there for him for quite some time now. When he'd been suffering from headaches or sleep deprivation or lost appetite she had taken care of him, with small gestures and discreetly showing kindness one might not presume from a woman like herself.

_"Well luckily things have calmed down for the moment - are you alright after all this?"_

He said, making a vague gesture with his hand referring to the colorful events of the ball.

_"I’m just worn out, like I said tonight has been very long.”_

Dara said, and glanced at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

_“For all of us. I’m glad it’s over.”_

Cullen said and that earned him a short laughter. Dara seemed to remember something and even though it might well have been an image of him hopelessly besieged by nobles, he welcomed the sound.

_"I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight. This was not a ball I was expecting. Do they usually consist this many corpses and demons?"_

_"Well, maybe not in Orlais but Dorian said that in the Tevinter there are few human sacrifices and some blood magic in every decent party."_

Cullen scoffed.

_"And for me he promised to teach a dance that would be remembered for years to come. Something to do with ten silk scarves. Maker, I hope I'd know whether that man is serious or not."_

Dara laughed again, with more fire and life in her this time.

_"I'd like to see that dance! You might perform as a duo! Dorian Pavus, the evil altus from Tevinter bringing his marvelous magic on the stage. It surely warms up the audience. And the role of his nemesis performed by the knight in shining armor, Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford, the master of swordplay. Are we going to see the sword? Whose scarves will endure the longest? Which one of these combatants will lose it all? See the most steamy scarf-dancing show in Thedas. That would be grand - I'd buy the tickets!”_

Cullen cheeks were red and Dara noticed he had laid his hand on her back somewhere along the way. His expression shifted from embarrassed yet amused smirk into thoughtful and serious stare and she had the strangest feeling. A little tingling spread into her body when Cullen looked at her the way he did. For a fleeting moment she thought he was about to kiss her but then he pulled back a little.

_“Talking about dancing. I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask: may I have this dance, my lady?”_

Now she was truly taken aback. Right after she had thought this was a man of a less rhetoric and even lesser gallantry. And here he was, bowing a little and offering his arm for her to take or leave it.

_“Of - of course. But I thought you didn’t dance?”_

When Dara was still babbling Cullen took her arm and wrapped the another around her waist. For some reason this was more intimate than Dara massaging him or Cullen helping her out of her armor when she returned to the Skyhold all beaten down. Maybe because this was so frivolous and vain. It was only for them, for _her_ , a light moment of joy that rose above the duty and obligations.

_“For you, I’ll try.”_

He said. And it meant so much that Cullen, not being a man of sleek manners or flashy gestures, granted her the wish she had so casually thrown into air... He had been giving it a thought and decided he'd get out of his comfort zone. When they faltered through the dance, Cullen stepping on her feet more than few times both were grinning. Their attempts in dancing together were a complete disaster; It did not matter since it had never been about achieving effortless elegance and they knew it.

When the song ended and they lingered close to each other for few moments too long, a couple of large, watery tears rolled on Dara’s cheek. Cullen stopped his still slightly swinging motion abruptly and touched her wet cheeks with his fingertips like he had no idea what to do.

_”Did I tread your feet that badly? I did tell you I’m a terrible dancer.”_

He said and there was a hint of desperation in his voice.

_”No, you did not. I have had much worse encounters both on battlefields and on the dance floors, believe me. I’m just so tired and your request was so surprising…”_

Her voice cracked and she could not go on. Cullen did not ask for further explanation. They stood in a silence for a while, until Josephine found them.

Before Cullen fell asleep in the caravan his last thoughts were with the Inquisitor sleeping in the other carriage. He had not realized how rarely she had faced candid acts of kindness. The woman who did so much to aid the others, to save the world and to work for peace: none of her good deeds went unpunished, it seemed. Dara’s life had been constant struggle ever since her teenage years. She deserved better.

Not that he had pure motives when asking her to dance with him, even though she might think so. Cullen had wanted to steal her for himself and pulling her against him had resonated in his whole body. Mere thought of it made him feel like he could not fit into his own skin, like it was too much yet too little a the same time. He could feel her warmth and smell her perfume like her hand was still steadying them, touching his back. And in the end of the memory were those shining droplets on her eyes. He hoped they had been tears of happiness.


	29. I'm leaning on the edge, illuminate the way to my heart - it's twisting on a thread, come raise the dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel Rabin - Raise the Dead

A baby was born in the Skyhold. Dara wasn’t around when it happened but as soon as she came back from a mission, the mother of the child brought her infant to greet her - _perks_ _of_ _being_ _the_ _Inquisitor_ , she thought. The mother was a mage and when they talked about her childbirth she cried; Beneath the happiness was a too familiar shadow - both of them knew she had likely no child at all, or she had been forced to give her child away, had it born in a Circle.

Dara took the baby carefully into her arms and admired the bright, almost violently blue eyes of his. She sniffed the baby's head and the scent brought back flashes of her past, those she had tossed aside; She had been obliged to lead the mages in the beginning of her life as an apostate and now she was the Inquisitor. To be what she needed to be, she hoped she could lose such memories.

The scent of baby hair, it was one of a kind. It took her back in time; She had been so young, cherishing childish hopes of getting away from Circle. That her family could pull some strings and grant her a permission to live outside those walls. As she was to find out, this fate was equally cruel to nobles and those from common backgrounds. Only once her title saved her, but that was years later.

A baby, whom they would later name Lily, was brought into their Circle. The templars taking her away from her mother did not give her to some family outside the Order because both her parents were mages. Templars said it was likely she'd become a mage too, and had she grown up without showing signs of magical abilities, they could raise her to be a templar.

Templars serving in the Circle of Ostwick weren't thrilled with a duty of taking care of an infant, so they asked the mages whether some of them wanted to raise the kid. Even today she was uncertain of her reasons for volunteering. Something in the way she'd been separated from her family made her relate to this orphan girl. Maybe their futures might entwine and nurturing this fragile, new life could give her an unexpected purpose, a reason to keep on breathing when the walls were crushing her.

Whatever the reasons, she, a girl of sixteen summers took the baby and for countless of sleepless nights they comforted each others. Lily grew up, the peach fuzz on her head growing into wild, coppery curls and helpless squeaks turning into endless babbling, questions and sparkling giggles. Dara grew up too and when they had been inseparable for six years no one would call Lily anything else but her daughter, if someone asked about her guardian.

Lily was a smart child: her mind was always working with new wonders and she learned to read at the age of five. She was interested in nature, geography, literature and magic and whenever she had no meaningful chores she started planning pranks. She knew most of the people in the Circle and brought happiness amongst them: even few of the templars spent time with her, teaching her some skills they considered to be harmless. Like playing Wicked Grace or throwing dice.

Those were not good years for Dara, losing Adrien and realizing her life would never be more that what it was now. But midst all that Lily was her spark. Even when she was throwing tantrums, and despite all her defiance, she made Dara to carry on.

It all ended the same way it had started, Dara cradling Lily's body in her arms. It had seemed impossible. For such a small body to have so massive wound in it. A templar-sword had cut through her, almost ripping her into half. It had been a quick death and - Dara’s only consolation, however scarce it was.

Dara could never forgive herself for not being with her when the rebellion hit their Circle and the fighting started. For weeks she had been too busy trying to get a picture of a current political situation, grasping for news, clues and nuggets. Lily had to die alone, afraid and defenseless when terrified templars killed any mage they would face, whether they were fighting back or not. As it turned out, they slaughtered even children without any magical abilities at all.

Other mages forced her to leave Lily, to move and flee. She was a burden, screaming and scratching those who dragged her towards the doors leading out. When she was a circle mage she used to dream about leaving the Circle. The first two years Dara thought even a death was better than her faith. But now she'd wanted to stay as she had lost the only two people who had meant anything to her. She wanted to linger here with them, to wither and vanish as a bereft spirit.

One of the templars carried her out when the elderly mages who tried to save her grew too tired. Dara bit him and tried to escape but he just hauled her towards the gates. In her dreams she could still hear his voice, calming her down, telling how sorry he was.

_"I did not sign up for killing children."_

He said when he lowered her on the doorsteps. Before Dara fled with the other mages she could see him leading the remaining mages downwards, trying to keep those pursuing them afar, cutting through every templar who tried to stop them.

And then they were too far, her eyes too full of tears and darkness was closing in. The following memories she had of that time dated almost a week after their escape from the Circle. The shock, sorrow and pain had erased several days from her mind so throughly she had not been able to recover them - neither she wanted to.

 

____

It was that day again. An anniversary of some sort. The day the Circle had broken and the mages living inside those walls were either killed or fleeing to every corner of the known world. Some of them travelled with her, others had even found their way into the Inquisition. But today was not a day of reminiscing or celebration for her. Instead she tried to wade through it without breaking apart.

Dara had decided to head to Crestwood right after their return from the Halamshiral. They had to meet Hawkes warden friend. Tomorrow, she’d take care of that tomorrow, since she suspected that today she was of no use. To anyone.

It would be better to lock herself into her quarters for the night, tell everyone she needed rest before the next mission. She did not have the luxury of dwelling in her loss longer than that: being caught up in the middle of the revolution after Lily’s death had taught Dara how to mourn alone, swiftly and only for a certain extent. She had to be able to take care of her duties the next day. Maybe surviving day by day, planning ahead only until following eve had saved her when the pain was still raw.

Dara was heading into her quarters but Cullen was standing on the stairwell leading to her bedroom. She felt irritated, as she was in the brink of falling into pieces right here and now. She had kept the meeting in the War Room as short as possible and announced her need of having a day off. Leliana had wanted to sort through some letters, ignoring her wish to leave instantly and now Cullen seemed to have concerns of his own.

_”Dara…”_

Cullen started and it made her to look up. His hair was tousled in the neck, like he had been raking his hand in them while waiting. He rarely called her with her given name, no matter how many times she had asked him to do so, how much they had argued or how personal issues they had discussed.

Dara wondered whether he remembered their interactions in such detail. She sure did. But could he notice the change like this and if such things like this mattered to him at all. She felt softer, like she'd shed her sorrows all over him if she was not careful.

_"I’m sorry if I make assu… this might not be my place to say anything…”_

Cullen was clearly in trouble, trying to find words that would give her a graceful way out of whatever he was going to say. Then he gave up and blurted his concern out.

_"You look like you could use a friend and I wanted to say that I’m willing to help if there’s anything I can do.”_

She stepped closer to him, measuring him from head to toe, like staring at him could give her clues of how he knew of her distress. Did she look so exhausted that even Cullen, who was sometimes the most oblivious person she knew, could tell she was ready to break down? Well, bloodshot eyes, dark under-eyes, messy hair and trembling hands might have been the ones who let her out.

She stretched upwards a little, leaning to Cullen’s shoulder with her hand and planting a kiss on his cheek.

_”Thank you, I truly appreciate the offer but this is a burden I have to carry alone.”_

She said and opened her door. Before the door was completely closed she could hear his voice reaching after her.

_”Is it really?”_

 

_____

When the door was locked she slumbed on the stairs. She could not make it into her quarters. The sorrow surrounded her as she made a small ball of her body.

A tiny hand gripping her fingers, the joy on the little face when she made magical tricks, a warm and peaceful child sleeping next to her. Pride, love and endless tenderness towards this small miracle of hers. And it was all over, forever lost.

She would not see her growing up, she could not be there for her in sickness or when she woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare. She cried so much it forced her to weep aloud and had she been farther from the lower stairwell, she had screamed.

When she finally stopped she noticed her face had swollen, a headache thrummed in her skull, her throat was dry and every inch of her body was sore after lying on the steps made of stone for hours.

But she felt purified. She had been wondering whether she was doing the right thing. After this day she had no doubts. From the ashes she had to rise and build a new life for herself and therein lied a power she needed to wield.

 

\----

Cullen hated feeling this powerless. He could hear a muffled thud through the door: when Dara started to cry like that, it scared him more than the thought of her injuring herself when falling.

He just sat there, behind the door, listening Dara's hysterical sobs, cries and Maker _how_ he wanted to something, anything. After a while he had to leave. He even forgot to fear what she would think had she known he had lurked behind her doors like that.

He wanted to get away from thinking the Inquisitors sorrow but he also needed to avoid facing the reasons why seeing her in a pain almost crippled him.

 

______

It was early when he heard a horse arriving into Skyholds upper stables where the inner circle held their horses. He peaked out of his window and saw the Inquisitor hurrying herself to meet someone. He climbed down the ladder and followed her. In the pale twilight he could saw Dorian handing some object for Dara.

_"My contacts were able to recover this based on the directions you gave. The bloodstones you've collected are embedded on their places as well. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"_

Cullen saw Dara examining the item carefully.

_"I read your tome and the instructions were clear: true necromancer has to create a relic that will house the soul of another who is already dead. They must ensure the soul is respectful, and that it helps the relic pulse enough power to demonstrate their serious intention. What would be a better choice than a willing soul, with connections to both my history, magical abilities and the world beyond?"_

Dorians posture was unusually pervasive and he seemed to be in doubt.

_"Don't worry. I was wandering in the Fade, looking for answers, maybe absolution or closure, and then she came to me. She wanted to help, to aid my cause. She wished for me to be happy - like she always did. At first I said no but she was persistent - she returned to me several times with the same plea. And then I said yes. If that's her last wish who am I to deny it? Maybe she'll be truly free after I've gained the knowledge I seek."_

Dorian leaned to his staff. He looked older, like he had taken a new burden on his shoulders.

_"I'm sorry you had to survive yesterday alone."_

_"It's all right. Commander here offered his company but it was something I had to do alone. If this goes as planned I won't find her wandering the Fade anymore... so yesterday was a goodbye of some sort."_

Dara said and turned around. In her hands was a small, polished skull, its forehead and eye sockets decorated with bloodstones and the mouth grinning like it was about to speak.

_"Cullen, I'd like you to meet Lily."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a son who's 4 years old. Writing this chapter broke my heart before I managed to actually write down a single word.


	30. Hear it now, the night is calling us, wave your hands and summon the spirits up: tonight, tonight, tonight, we raise the dead!

The sun hadn't even climbed over the walls and roofs of Skyhold before someone approached the fortress. The man was wearing a decorative and colorful mage robe and it looked like he had rode to the point where his horse was ready to collapse.

The bald mage with fuzzy eyebrows introduced himself as Viuus Anaxas of the Nevarran Mortalitasi. He claimed he was to meet Seeker Pentaghast on behalf of Duke Anaxas, the ruler of Cumberland. When Cassandra arrived, a look of aversion clear on her face - like always when she met someone connected to her family or homeland. After they had talked a while she softened and even laughed; The messenger, Viuus, clearly wasn’t that sort of person who had made her leave, even if he was a death mage.

When Cullen was to walk away, as the situation was clearly harmless after all, and it did not need his presence, Cassandra stopped him with a question.

” _Cullen, Viuus here says he heard a calling on his way here. That someone had tapped into the forces he’s mastered. A new player in the game, wishing to mould the world beyond our mortal plane. He thinks the call came from inside these walls. I thought you should know, in case he is right and this person could be a threat to our safety.”_

Cullen turned back, a hint of desperation setting itself into his bones, sighed and started his explanation.

————

_”You did WHAT?”_

Cassandra shouted and charged into Daras quarters. The Inquisitor had seen her like this only on the battlefield. Agitated, shoulders pushed slightly onwards, pacing, like she was ready to strike. She could see breathless Cullen climbing the stairs behind her and for a moment the thought of him, chasing Cassandra through Skyhold, trying to stop her assault made her smile inwards. She was not stupid enough to smile right at her, not when she was like this.

_”I suppose you heard of my latest choice of specialization. No other thing that I can think of could get under your skin like this. But let me assure you, I’ve thought this through.”_

Dara said, looking firmly into her eyes. Cassandra stopped her restless stamping about.

_”Do you trust in me? Would I damn us all with something reckless after facing an archdemon in Haven, when I’ve seen what horrors the Breach can pour upon us all and what kind of future awaits the world if Corypheus defeats us.”_

Cassandra scoffed, closed her eyes and stood still for a moment. Her sudden arrival had raised a cloud of dust flying around and it sparkled in the sunlight. Cullens breath had calmed down but he felt like the stillness of the moment made it hard for him to let the next huff in line out normally. Eventually Cassandra opened her eyelids and faced Dara.

_”I do trust you. And Maker knows I have to do so. But it does not mean I like meddling with the death. I’ve seen people lose their interest in the matters of the living too many times. Even thinking of necromancy makes me smell of the oils and perfumes they used to...”_

Dara stepped closer and laid a hand on Cassandras elbow. She did it with a smirk which was not an expression of true joy, more like an underlining for her laconism.

_”When I die I intent to stay that way. I will fight until there’s nothing left of me. But if there’s something that can give me an edge, to keep us in the game, I’ll take it. And necromancy is known to increase and complement the powers of a fire mage.”_

Cullen had heard Dara’s reasoning when she received the skull. She had shared the whole story of Lily, how she discovered her connection to Fade, that had lately been amplified by her mark, made it easier for her to sense when remains of the spirits around her could be used, when they were willing or available for her to utilize. And yet it made his stomach clench. He found the idea of using even parts of the beings and spirits lost and shattered profoundly wrong. Yet it was not his primary consern but the fear he felt for her. She had seen so much death, it had whisked so close to her flame he wondered how many times she had been in danger of being quenched.

_”And considering we are dealing with a supposedly dead magister who stepped into the Fade eons ago and controls forces that can make him raise from the dead over and over again… maybe a knowledge concerning such matters could not hurt?”_

Dorian said, joining the party, as usual never minding the fact that he was uninvited. Not that this was a cautiously planned meeting or social call by any measure. Cassandra realized that she was in a minority and acknowledged her defeat. She nodded and walked down the stairs, muttering something about Tevinter mages giving advice in gaining power and slammed the door shut.

_”Well, that went better than I suspected.”_

Dara said and laughed.

——

Dara had been able to feel a field of power surrounding her the moment she touched the skull. It had been but a inkling of the thinnest and transparent lines. After short time of practice she could see them clearly when she tapped into the Fade. And when she reached out, concentrated, made her power run through those threads like they were meant to conduct her magic, the lines connected her to those lingering in the edges of the tapestry of life and death.

The sensation was overwhelming. It made a woman who was known for her loudness and liveliness fall silent and yes, it made her feel almost _pious_. Like she’d finally felt belonging, a touch of something bigger than her earthly body could sense. She was standing on threshold of a nexus, a truth, that to her was more meaningful than the faint ideas and fleeting dreams the Fade had offered to her.

_”Holy nug.”_

She had said.

When Viuus found her and the necessary introductions had been covered, they both seemed humbled. Dara because she could explore her newfound skill so soon and with a right master and Viuus for mentoring the Inquisitor herself, guiding this woman whose name was on everyones lips these days, into his craft that admittedly had a shady reputation. Maybe she could show the world that heroes and Heralds could wield this power? That this magic he proudly practiced was not a trait restricted for old men who wasted their time with the corpses, too afraid to face their fleeting lives.

So they trained like their lives depended on it. Who knew, maybe they did. This was only after most of Dara’s companions and advisors alike had vocalized their disapproval or concerns about her new field of magical abilities. She bitterly thought that Cole had been the only one with any grounds to object, most were bigoted and condemning without a reason.

Only Solas could see that she did not even intent to harm spirits that could be considered being their own life forms nor persons. Some of her companions like Blackwall could see that this magic was a form among the others, not without explanation, but after some reasoning... She felt a little sulky afterwards. Was this how much they trusted her, after all the fights and hardships they had faced together? Did they value the common opinion more than their shared experiences, they way she had learned to use, if not control, this foreign magic that had been violently submerged into her body?

Viuus accompanied them when she left to scout the Crestwood. What could be a better place to learn how to tap into a web of those who had passed than an area that had faced plague after another, floods and now had a problem caused by a persistent rift that spit undead amongst those still living?

Their mission went sideways more than once but when they returned to the Skyhold, Viuus would not stop praising her student. Cassandra told Dara later that he had not seen the man that enthusiastic about any living thing since forever and if he said she was a natural, she really must have been. The way every new ability she gained clicked into its place and entwined with the skills she already had, made her believe both of them. She had always been a quick learner after all, but only if she had passion for learning the said trait or craft. 

After their lessons Dara could make the enemies scatter around or solidify them out of the pure terror. She could turn them into walking weapons, waiting the right moment to blow them up and even resurrect some of them back into a state of being that imitated life, long enough for them to help her in the fight.

She usually fought with fiery explosions, walls of fire and other manners that dealt much damage on a limited area and made her to rush into the fight differently than for example Dorian who used cold spells and electricity from background. Dorian was all about careful control and elegance whereas she was pure force thrown into midst of the fight. And sometimes that left her vulnerable. So she was rapt when she noticed that she had started to regain not only mana, but also health every time an enemy died nearby. Not mentioning that as she had a habit of dealing some serious damage among the enemies; Since her new abilities, killing enemies had started attracting spirits that increased the power of her spells for a short time.

Upon her return everyone could see that the journey had given her much thought but it had also made her feel excited about her magic again. Her fire magic had been a part of her for so long she had tested its limitations several times. Learning how to create a basic spirit barrier or heal minor wounds had been useful additions to her repertoire but not very interesting abilities had she been asked. But this was different - an entirely new field to explore and tap into when needed.

Whereas she had generally avoided getting dragged into the never-ending conversations about theoretical basis of magic he now knowingly sought help from both Solas and Dorian. Simply put, the change was good for her. Her friends subsided and accepted the way she used necromancy more readily when they saw how it gave her energy and confidence in the middle of all the pressure building on her. Even Cassandra yielded. As they say, there’s first time for everyone and everything.

 


	31. I want desire, I wanna see what you're willing to lose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years & years - Desire
> 
> // Finally something even relatively smutty, feels good, doesn't it?

This would break him. Shatter him to pieces like a gust of wind would wreck a wooden boat against the adamant cliffs of Storm Coast.

It was one of those days when concentrating to anything was impossible. He could only potter around completing some minor tasks that had been piling up to his desk. Like delivering some papers or walking around asking about progress of recruits or armory. He tried to look busy and competent but was afraid that those with sharp eyes and even sharper minds could see his distress.

He wanted to avoid a certain mage more than anyone else. They had bickered about her training for necromancy, not just once but several times, even over the letters they sent to each other when she was in the Crestwood. Neither one of them was able to give up. Cullen knew this was about his templar training and years on duty - how he had learned to distrust any magic but especially unknown and unconventional magic.

He irked even himself with his endless stubbornness and inability to lay down the arms. It did not help that whenever they fought he felt an unnervingly strong need to cut Daras merciless riding short by any means. Mostly he envisioned kissing her until they could both call it a truce. Neither that it would actually work nor he dared to go for it, no matter how strong the pull was; His mind was too coached and used to resist the urges of his body.

And when it came to the horrible state he was in at the moment, after all that clashing together he felt like he could not accept any compassion or acts of caring from her. It would make him feel even worse.

When it was finally lunchtime he relieved himself of his duties and collapsed into his chair, as soon as the heavy wooden door of his office had slammed close behind him. He closed his eyelids and felt the cold sweat dripping over them, a large drop finding its way around his nose, going over lips and landing near his collar.

_"Having a bad day Rutherford?"_

He literally jumped a little and his hand went for his sword that wasn't even on his hip. A sad display indeed.

_"Feeling jumpy are we?”_

When the voice sounding from the farthest and darkest corner of his office had been concerned and almost soft the first time it spoke, now it was fully mischievous.

The Inquisitor stood up from the stool on which she had apparently lounged quite some time. The light sifted through narrow window and gave her a ethereal halo of fiery hair and dark, slightly golden skin when she stepped next to him. The little impish smile lingering on her face was suddenly lost as she spoke:

_"I saw you talking to Commander Helaine and you looked like you'd either collapse or start vomiting uncontrollably all over the lower landing. I figured you'd come straight back to your office after that business and so I camped here to wait you. It turned out you have either stronger stomach or resolve than I estimated. So I took a nap, scared one recruit halfway to Fade when he tried to deliver some reports and paged some of your books - terribly dull stuff mostly if I may say so."_

She stopped blabbering and looked even more solemn than before, which seemed to be highly difficult for her.

_"Is there something I could do? Like fetch some tea for the sleep or try that massage for headaches again? And as I've said multiple times: a day off now and then couldn't hurt you either. I can write an order of rest and sign it if it keeps you in bed."_

He felt a sudden surge of gentle warmth spreading through his body. He knew well enough now that wasn't Daras doing, not through magic that was. Her imminent concern and willingness to help... it was enough to brace himself a little. Even though it made him feel just as quilty as he had suspected. Why he had to be just a blasted ram and hit his head to the wall over and over again?

_"It's not the lack of sleep or my head this time. It's more like my whole body wants to give up - just lie down and die. Keeping myself going, that I can do, but keep the pain hidden or buried, that I can't do today. Nothing seems to keep my mind away from this ache. It's clawing my mind and gnawing my bones without mercy or moments of distraction."_

He went silent and felt surprised he had been able to muster explanation that long as he'd spent the whole morning answering questions and checking out reports as shortly as possible, three words being the maximum length of his sentences. 

When he raised his eyes and looked at her he realized she was distractingly close. She _always_ pushed boundaries of personal space; No-one was safe when she felt like hugging, cuddling or planting the small kisses on every friendly cheek, forehead or tip of the nose nearby. But now she leant almost over him and sat down on his lap.

He could do nothing but stare when her hand wandered to his nape and tucked some curls with her fingers. He'd been holding his breath and it bursted out with a loud huff. She smiled a wide and bright smile and pressed her still smirking lips against his.

Everything stopped. It felt like every particle of his body was still. It was rare he'd be caught off guard like this and it took several seconds for him to collect himself.

Her lips were still sliding and searching against his and when his body truly realized its position; Dara was sitting legs spread around him and her breasts pressed against his chest, lush but firm. As she moved a little his body awakened and something almost forgotten roared inside him. 

Her gaze was intense and her irises reminded him of the tiger-eyes and pyrites she collected and kept on her desk. He closed his eyes and answered the kiss, more roughly than he had intended. _Maker, like he had intended any of this._

 

...

 

Dara slipped her tongue inside Cullens mouth and tasted him. Now that he'd recovered of the surprise, he kissed her like his life depended on. His hands were roaming all over her body, mostly her back and waist, like he was afraid of pushing them over some invisible border by grabbing her rear or rack. She smiled a little to that thought and pulled away for a second. Mainly to draw breath but also to see the victim of her ministrations.

Cullen was breathing heavily and his hair was a complete mess. They were curled and thick wisps of hair fell to his forehead. His lips were departed a little and his eyes were half closed, glimpses of gold dripping between the shutters. He looked so rough and prurient that she felt a twitch between her legs. She was getting a little too wet and heated for her own good.

He started to look a little uncertain under her stare and she kissed him again. He pulled her to him, involuntarily jerking upwards a little so that she could feel his growing arousal even through several layers of their pants. 

Her whole pelvic floor tightened and she felt her blood throbbing in her ears, and racing through her hands as they studied Cullens body. She felt a hunger and need piling up in her core and realized she'd have to stop... before this ended very differently than she had planned. Take a whimsical idea, meant to offer a moment of distraction - can you call it a plan in a first place?

Their lips were still caressing each other and she could feel Cullens taste changing to something she knew well: the special flavour that was a little like licorice yet truly like nothing familiar one could eat. She had kissed several men tasting the same and that sweet and deep flavor told her she wouldn't have to push them, Cullen over anything; He'd fall over the edge solely by the force they'd already set motion.

She stopped the kiss and pulled away, standing up and looking him with attempted smile on her face. She had to take a minute to collect herself. The blush had spread all over her face and cleavage which Cullen had managed to reveal at some point. She noted herself to check the buttons before marching through the entire Skyhold.

_"You needed a moment of distraction. Hope you had at least two."_

Cullen looked so disorganized she had to laugh. She pivoted towards the door and rolled her hips, knowing he'd watch her leave.

_"Always at your service Commander!”_

She remarked as she slipped out to the sunshine. 

 

 


	32. Oh, you’re in my veins and I cannot get you out, oh, you’re all I taste at night inside of my mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Belle - In My Veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing goes as planned  
> Everything will break  
> People say goodbye  
> In their own special way
> 
> All that you rely on  
> And all that you can fake  
> Will leave you in the morning  
> But find you in the day
> 
> Everything will change  
> Nothing stays the same  
> Nobody here's perfect  
> Oh, but everyone's to blame
> 
> Oh, all that you rely on  
> And all that you can save  
> Will leave you in the morning  
> And find you in the day
> 
> Everything is dark  
> It's more than you can take  
> But you catch a glimpse of sun light  
> Shining, shining down on your face  
> Your face  
> Oh your face
> 
> Oh, you're in my veins  
> And I cannot get you out  
> Oh, you're all I taste  
> At night inside of my mouth  
> Oh, you run away  
> 'Cause I am not what you found  
> Oh, you're in my veins  
> And I cannot get you out  
> (No)
> 
> No, I cannot get you out  
> (Oh, you're in my veins)  
> No, I cannot get you out  
> Oh no, I cannot get you

It took him several minutes, nearly quarter of an hour to collect his thoughts. By then he realized he'd have to something about his almost painfully persistent erection so he locked the door and climbed up to his bed. There was no way it would ease in a reasonable amount of time. And there was always a realistic chance that some messenger would barge in and end up staring the bulge in his pants.

When he managed to get his breeches down and grabbed his cock the immediate surge of pleasure took him by surprise. He was so ready, yet frustrated of having to jerk like this. He started sliding his hand around himself and closed his eyes. The moment his eyes fell shut he saw Dara as she'd been.

She'd been a heavenly view: eyes closed, lashes fluttering, hands searching for something. Like she did not even know what she was trying to grasp but expected to find it from his body. Nipping his lower lip with her teeth, back a little arched. She had pushed her midst against him and merely the pressure against him had been almost too much to bare. He thought how her moist folds would have felt against him and it made another rush of blood engorge into his cock.

Her nipples had showed through her casual outfit. The lines of her breasts were clear under it and he had wanted to press them together, bury his face between them, lick them and suck her nipples but he could not make himself touch her like that. When he stopped hovering and positioned his hands behind Daras neck instead he could feel a strong and persistent pulse through her skin, muscles and veins. 

She had shivered a little when his icy fingers had touched the unclothed parts of her skin and he remembered a passing moment of spite; Even then, when he had wanted nothing more than be warm and get closer, as close as he could get to her, and beyond that, he was still cold and unable…

Dara had stopped, opened her eyes and looked at him with a want and appreciation so clear in her eyes it started to merge something broken inside him. He knew he had no choice but to take everything she was to give him. Neither his aching body or tormented mind had any barriers left. If she'd let him go on he would, until there would be nothing left to give.

At that moment this woman had spellbound him with just one testimonial regard. She had enchanted him with kiss that made his blood rush hot and frantic. Like he wasn’t a hollow core, a creature so drained and exploited he sometimes had troubles recognizing himself, but a man with hopes and prospects.

Through closeness and touches and the compelling pull of hers she had bewitched him to fulfill her every wish. He wanted her so much he couldn’t hold on to any of his principals. This was madness. The sweetest fire of his damnation. Like in his dreams, so many times, he'd touch the flame knowing it would burn him.

He slid his hands under her jacket to touch her cleavage and it was so hot he almost drew his hands away. She let out the smallest moan when he got closer… Cullen came undone accompanied with such loud guttural noise he hoped no-one was near his office - in the worst case waiting behind the wooden door. 

He fell down to his bed, world spinning around him, and seeing the sky and dust flying in the sun, all of that rather unclearly. He felt both loose and ashamed of the way he'd used the Inquisitor in his fantasies like it was the most natural thing that has ever happened on this celestial body. And not even for the first time, Maker she'd been in so many dreams and reveries of his, he could neither count the times nor tell it to anyone, ever.

The sleep was taking over him. He reminded himself, it was only late afternoon and he had vast amount of work waiting on his desk. He closed his eyes and assured himself that he'd rest only for a short while. Cullen woke up feeling unusually whole, seeing the first stars of the evening through the still unrepaired hole in his ceiling.

 


	33. The waiting seems eternity, the day will dawn of sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of Magic - Queen

The Inquisitor was basking in the pool of sunlight. Her hair looked like crimson today and not only color-wise. Lose threads hanged to her face and she had red maculae all over her face, arms and cleavage. She drowsed on a bench, chest rising in steady pace and took notice of the seekers arrival only by peeking with one eye.

_"Ah Lady Seeker. To what I own the pleasure?"_

Her voice was lazy but her body showed signs of being agitated even if she tried to seem languid. Something in her expression told Cassandra the Inquisitor was not in a very sociable mood and she should probably explain why she had decided to distract her supposed-to-be-nap in the Skyhold Garden. The garden at hand was almost empty, which was unusual. This was a common place for several Chantry sisters, mages, healers and nobles alike to discuss politics, religion, magic, form allies and Maker forbid, do some actual gardening.

Even Morrigan was gone, only one old lady did some sewing in the farthest corner of the area. Kieran was sitting in a tree and... talking to the birds? It made him look almost like a normal boy, more than his serious and older than his years appearance generally did. Well at least the sitting in the tree part did, talking to the birds, not so much. Cassandra suspected Daras' glaring had made others flee and leave her alone to sulk.

_"Just wanted to know how things are with your companions and advisors."_

Cassandra told her. She occupied the part of the bench that wasn't under the Inquisitor. Dara noticed she did mange to make even squeezing her arse on almost non-existent space look graceful and for that she envied her. Dara managed to achieve a halfway decent position for sitting which left more space to Cassandra. The Inquisitor threw her a sideway glance that said _you just had to ruin my nap, didn't you_.

_"So you've heard about my way of helping our dear Commander with his... issues."_

She squinted whilst asking it. This surely wasn't a mere coincidence. Cassandra rarely asked her of such things casually; She left concerns of their mental well-being mostly for those who had more natural qualities to discuss such matters with tact. Dara herself enjoyed discussing with her. Cassandra might be blunt sometimes but she was also honest and managed to look like she was genuinely interested in hearing the opinion of those she respected. So if this was about the Commander, she might be just as straightforward.

_"No I have not. I was just checking on you. But now that you brought him up, please do tell, how is Cullen?"_

_"I certainly did, bring him up... He probably sleeps like a baby after some well timed release. You know, I know, and he certainly knows that your moral compass, abiding support and great pep-talks are crucial to him. But he's also a man who needs to enjoy himself once in a while instead of fighting against it all the time."_

She smirked in the most sinuous way and looked very smug. It took a second or two for her words to sink in but after they had, Cassandra blushed fiercely and made a strange squeaking noise.

_"No! You didn't!"_

Cassandra cried out, disbelief written clear on her face. This was hilarious, Dara thought, already regretting having to admit nothing truly sinful had happened.

_"Well we only kissed. Call it inspiring or teasing, as you wish... But damn is it hot in here. Where could I find someone to use all this heat with? Whatever that was about I could use a blushing recruit or two right now. You know, to get it out of my system and blow off some steam."_

She really looked a little feverish, sweating and blush lingering on her cheeks. Cassandra could actually see some pent-up sexual energy in her movements. They way she was sitting and, Andraste preserve her, how Daras nipples were peaking through her blouse like pearls.

_"That bad?"_

_"Well you know me"_

_"We all know you and there's no way you're attending that meeting with Orlesian nobles in that... heated... state. So do what you must."_

Cassandra sounded so disapproving and condemning. Like she wouldn't ever roll in her bed wishing she could drag someone to her quarters and spent him until he'd beg for mercy. Dara bursted into laughter. 

_"I'll be kissing a shield-maiden if someone asks to see me!"_

The Inquisitor hopped off the bench and headed for the door. There was air under her steps when se waltzed and leaped towards the exit of the Garden. It seemed like even making the decision had helped, in comparison to silently and sullenly suffering in a frustrated state.

_"Dara wait..."_

_"Cassandra?"_

_"Be careful with Commander. He's still in a dark place... and... I'm not sure whether he's up to playing your games."_

_"Thanks for the advisory - seriously, your advice is usually the best. Please do consider leading something like the Seekers or the Chantry. And I"ll think about what you said about the Commander in return.”_

And so she was gone and Cassandra sat there a long time, contemplating her choices in life. Was her way of suppressing her needs and feelings any better than the looser way of living, loving and bedding whoever she liked that the Inquisitor had chosen?

…

It was dark in the little room they had found. They could hear the laughter and sudden loud noises echoing from the Heralds Rest as they lied on the bed. The bed was full of lumps but it did not matter. The Inquisitor slept on a bedroll most of the time or got a very little sleep in her quarters due to responsibilities that piled up in the Skyhold when she was on missions. So every moment she managed to lie down without anyone demanding her attention she was content.

Dara slid her fingers through the hair of recruit she had met like this a couple of times. Though the Commander had said she was closer to a battlemaster than an awerage recruit and she agreed, whether she was supposed to think of Commanders opinions now or not. The undoubtedly skilled fighter lying aside her had an auburn skin, brown shade mixed with a little red or copper. It was a very unique combination she'd seen more often in hair or fabrics than being someones skin tone.

_"Have I ever mentioned how enchanting your skin is? How it draws me towards you, just to touch it."_

Dara purred and the woman lying next to her bursted into laughter. It was a soft voice of happiness and Dara hoped she could have loved someone like Emilee; Why in the Makers name she had to fell in love with a mage doomed to either self-destruct or get snuffed out by the hand of some zealots? Or a handsome, brilliant, yet pained man who struggeled to accept himself and whom she could not even fall in love with as he would never love her back. 

Nor someone who was too paralyzed and stuck in the past to make s single move forward. Though it was possible he was interested in her rather in a physical way and her personality was too forward, hot-headed or... So he was too honorable to act on purely physical impulses or desires. _Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it._

She tossed those thoughts aside and snatched a handful of Emilees wild, curly cloud of hair. Its color was shining black like crows feather and her eyes were almost as dark. They dilated a little when Dara yanked her head a little backwards and started kissing her neck, shoulders and started to rub her nipples which were still perky after her last peak of pleasure.

_"If I remember correctly, your original pick up line had something to do with, ah-hhhh - my skin looking like a wild horses hair. Unnnnmmm - very classy. No one can say the Herald of Andraste was anything but, ouchhh - smooth after the suave flirtations of that evening."_

Emilee teased as much as she was able to muster between her ministrations and Dara twisted her nipple gently as a feeble attempt of revenge.

_"Hey I was drunk as a skunk and considered ditching the whole Inquisition. Besides, why go head over heels about small talk if one has this kind of body and my charming personality?"_

Dara looked more than a little feral as she moved lower and grabbed Emilees firm and muscular butt, squeezing it with nails digging into flesh and started kissing het inner thighs. Scars run all over the warriors body and she admired the way they showed how many times she had fought back the pain and fear and emerged victorious from the battle.

_"You have been spending too much time with Dorian. That sort of braggadocio will stick if you're not careful"_

Emilee replied but she had to stop trash talking when Dara licked her already swollen folds.

_"Nnnh. Okay, I"ll surrender."_

She muttered as Daras tongue started to work her in small circles. 

_"Good girl."_

Afterwards they lied still and Daras thouhts revolved around the way she enjoyed the simplicity of their affair. Both of them knew it was all about mutual respect and attraction, pleasure, intimacy and sexual release. Neither of them wanted a serious relationship with each other; If they had to stop meeting each other like this they would either become friends or drift apart - only time would tell. But there were no things unsaid or unrealistic expectations.

And of course either of them could die any day as they were in the middle of the war against an ancient Darkspawn magister. It sounded crazy but that had been one of their realities almost right from the start. Depressing odds aside, it was nice, having clear guidelines and common interests in a casual relationship.

Emilee should have been training with other recruits but she was such a force of nature on the battlefield, Dara had given her a permission to use her skills occasionally for keeping the Inquisitor safe and sound and most importantly sane. Even Cassandra had noticed her skill with sword and shield and Dara felt proud a skilled warrior, solider and woman like this fought for the Inquisition. _Not so much for the Inquisition than for her_ , like Emilee had said, a non-romantic devotion shining on her face. 

She stroking Daras' strained neck and after a thorough massage ended up fingering Dara until she was all sweaty and her midst kept on twitching and throbbing even after Emilee had stopped her assault. When completely relaxed they talked about their cause, people they knew and stopped only to kiss each other to various parts, not wishing to actually end up any further than that, as both were all spent and sore.

They escaped the world like that until Dara had to rush into meeting those Orlesian nobles. When she was gone, Emilee laughed thinking how frivolous she would look, marching into the meeting.

 

 

 

 


	34. Just remember we're the good the bad the lovely, it is the sanity of life that makes us mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabrielle Aplin - Lying to the mirror

Dara had planned to leave the door open and allow the sun reach the farthest corners of Cullen's office. She was sick of this darkness. The storm had raged on the mountains for days; It made leaving the Skyhold practically impossible, caging her into doing paperwork, kissing the powdered buttocks of minor nobles swarming in the hall, sending messages to their agents and forces, planning new operations around the War Table. Even so she'd seen the Commander surprisingly little after her - their latest... attempt of distraction.

When she saw Cullens' face, she decided getting a portion of sunlight, however scarcely needed, into her brains could wait. As she stepped into the office Cullen braced himself against his table and started a speech he'd clearly practiced for some time.

_"As the leader of the Inquisition, there's something you should probably know."_

A tentative smile crept on Dara's face. Maybe this wouldn't be an embarrassing effort of talking about their encounter but rather more official matter of some sort? And just maybe she would not have to worry about her conflict of interest today - several conflicts to be honest.

_"Only as the leader of the Inquisition?"_

_"Well as my friend too, I suppose."_

_"Yeah, I'd say you were quite friendly with me the other day."_

Cullen offered her a slight smirk, a nod and recognition. For months her terrible puns, innuendos and constant flirting had made him either uncomfortable, embarrassed or slightly annoyed but these days he seemed to actually enjoy being at the receiving end of her teasing.

After a short pause he told her that they had managed to secure supply routes and made deals with several parties in order to provide lyrium for those templars and mages of Inquisition who needed it. After a general description of the possible ways of using lyrium as well as its side-effects he let his head hung. Cullen was an image of a defeated soul, and then he looked into her eyes so intensely it made Dara brace herself for whatever was to come.

_"But I no longer take it."_

Cullen said. His voice was almost inaudible and he clearly waited Dara to bolt or get angry or... Instead she stepped closer and the serenity in both her voice and posture made Cullen suspect she hadn't understood the severity of his announcement.

_"I know."_

The confession was made so solemnly it made Cullen blink. His mind cut the first initial thought of his short and skipped few others mixing the end of the first thought and the beginning of the last into a hopeless mess. And therefore his answer to Dara was a bit blunt and dumbfounded.

_"You... know? You know!"_

Dara huffed and assumed a deliberately composed tone.

_"It's more like I suspected it. Since your symptoms were so varied and they weren't continuous, it made me think of some sort of withdrawal. And years in circle also tends to give you basic knowledge about lyrium and it's effects. On top of that Elman tried to stop taking it, though halfway accidentally, when his lyrium supply ran dry. But that attempt almost killed him before we could get some replenishes."_

Dara gave him a moment to adjust to this new situation of mutual knowledge before she rubbed his lower arm, searching eye contact. Like she was asking whether this would ruin him like it had almost did to her friend.

_"We'll I haven't died yet, not that it doesn't feel like it sometimes."_

Dara smiled. It made his heart ache, that sad little smile she reserved for those she had lost years ago in the Circle and the more recently losses dealt in mage-templar-war, those who belonged into her childhood memories and those she halfway suspected to lose before all of this would be over.

The death was part of her, a constant companion, a shadow that grew longer in the brightest day, when she had more to lose and became almost invisible when her life was bleak, hopeless and grey. But it followed her nevertheless and Cullen had to admit her becoming a necromancer was quite fitting.

_"Thank you for telling me. I suppose this isn't exactly public knowledge."_

Cullen shook his head.

_"Only Cassandra knows. She will evaluate my progression and relieve me of my duties if I become unable to attend to them. I won't compromise our efforts because of my selfish goals, I promise you that."_

Dara nodded. If she'd learned anything from this man, he was all about duty, following orders, absorbing the teachings of his superiors and even relying on a blind faith. Or he'd been until lately.

Therefore Cullen had been the exact opposite of hers almost his whole life, setting aside his own feelings, short-term ambitions, beliefs that differed from the Chant and even his moral in order to fulfill his role as a templar. He had told Dara that he used to thrive to be a diligent and devoted member of the Order and believed that doing so he'd serve a greater good in a long run, even if he had to do things he did not approve wholeheartedly. Until the mess in Kirkwall that was in a way a catastrophic result of his unwillingness to question his superiors.

And now he had abandoned the Order and tried to listen solely his own sense, intuition and even feelings, if he had any. She knew thinking that was unfair yet this man was irritably calm in most of the situations.

Even if trying to quit using lyrium made him sick, sweaty, paranoid, shaking wreck of a man at times, Dara was happy for him. This seemed to be a culmination of his attempt of change. She wished he'd emerge as a winner in the end. None of this she said aloud; There was no words to describe all the thoughts running hither and tither in her head.

_"You're lucky to have so talented and devoted woman on your side."_

Cullen smiled in agreement.

_"Two of them, I hope."_

There was such warmth in his eyes. It made her feel uneasy. She was pulled towards him but when she was about to lean agaist him she remembered the conversation she'd overheard just yesterday.

Cullen had questioned Leliana about the Hero of the Ferelden, the woman Cullen had clearly fancied once. Dara did not mind that; He was hardly the first templar to be tempted. It was the way he had talked about the former mage apprentice, like she'd been a thing, not a living, breathing, feeling person. Like Cullen had been entitled to get her, to use her, to have her, just because she'd been assigned under his supervision.

It might have been an echo from the way he'd seen the mages in the past. It was the most likely explanation actually. But still it irked her, made her question Cullens' ability to ever shake off all the brainwashing and mage-hating rhetoric he'd been exposed to, and even spread at some point.

Years of justifying imprisonment, even killing other humans and taking away their rights, freedom, families. It had to change those carrying out the orders as well as it shaped those whom they held captive.

Why was she here?

He had invited her yes, but she could have made him wait instead of rushing to meet him. Only a day ago she'd been in a rage, roaming around the fortress, wishing to face demons, bandits or red templars in order to kill someone, or just outright burn some buildings down. But here she was, Maker only knew why.

And Cullens' implication, said with such a hopeful voice had made even the last remnants if her wrath leave her body. Yet, as much as she would have wished that, it was not an end to her internal divide. She wanted some things as a woman but as someone who had sworn to protect the mages and lead the Inquisition towards better tomorrow, to all of them, could she trust this man to turn a new leaf?

So she looked away and deflected both the gentle heat in his voice and the implications hiding inside his comment.

_"Yes, few templars have both the left and the right hand of the former Divine in their pocket."_

Cullen did not knew that Dara had heard the conversation between him and Leliana. Had she stayed longer and heard how the Spymaster scolded him afterwards, him apologizing for slipping into the old ways of speaking about mages, she'd been less angry.

Maybe Cullen confessing to Leliana that he'd been pining for another woman lately and so he had not thought how impossible, deranged and immature the description of his ages old crush would sound when he spurted it aloud... Because he had finally been able to set some of those memories aside. It might have given Dara some food for thought.

Not knowing why she was irritated, Cullen mistakenly suspected it was because Dara could not handle it when people credited her or praised her. Dara did appreciate the thought, given it was sincere, but receiving compliments made her feel awkward, sometimes to the point of total mortification. Yet he hoped she could try to hear him out. Cullen raised his free hand and placed his hand on her shoulder.

_"Seriously Dara I hope you know how I..."_

She turned to face him, furrowed brows and pouted lips giving away her annoyance.

_"As a matter of fact I don't. And I suppose this conversation, full of heartfelt confessions and all, ain't changing that either."_

There was an angry undertone building in her voice and Cullen felt tired. He knew he'd been sending mixed signals for quite long time. Letting some clumsy and graceless flirtations slip, every now and then seeking to touch her in a way that wasn't proper if you were to be mere friends.

He let go of her shoulder and she could've breathed fire on him, the way she looked at him. Cullen felt a shiver running down his spine remembering she could actually do that.

_"And to no-ones great surprise he considers himself being above of such inquiries. I'm a mage after all, maybe you think I should be trusted only with half truths and breadcrumbs of information. Fucking marvelous!"_

The light that blinked into his office made his eyes hurt, and the cold wind pouring in underlined Dara taking all her warmth in her wake. As it turned out the dimness and more stable temperature following the noise of door slammed shut didn't feel any more pleasant.

Cullen had no idea what had happened. Not one part of this conversation had gone as he had rehearsed it in his mind. Dara left him like this more ofthen than not. Confused, exhausted and uncertain.

He was a man with a strategic mind and habit of careful planning and therefore this really ate him. And yet he longed to see her again the instant she walked away. It was madness - but maybe he had to pursue something mad in order to survive leaving his old, meticulous and rational self behind?


	35. Too long too far from home, I feel just like I'm sinking and I claw for solid ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah McLachlan - Full Of Grace

They were making preparations for her trip to the Western Approach. They had decided she'd travel to the west with only her party and a limited force of Inquisition forces, big enough to put up a settlement there but small enough to travel fast. If the situation in the are demanded using more of Inquisition forces she'd send a word - no point for her traveling across the continent and using vast amounts of their precious time for mere counselingn. As it were this should have been a time for several meetings with her advisors, careful planning... but it had rather been about taking care of things that needed her attention in the nearby areas. Ever since the storm had relented, she'd been running missions every day and night.

The moment she got back, Josephine hurried to meet her and for a moment she feared someone she cared for had injured severely or even died on some mission. As it turned out, that was not the case. Few hours later Dara stared a letter in front of her. The sigil that had pictured the painfully familiar insignia of Trevelyan family was broken. Reading the letter had made it clear this was not just some common courtesy of contacting the Inquisition and promising support: the same gesture countless of noble families had done so far. The letter was definitely from her father and it was personal, to some extent at least. Josephine took the sheet from her hand as one corner of the paper curled - the scent of smoke started to spread into the room the Ambassador had chosen for their meeting.

_"What does it say?"_

Josephine asked after a long silence. She looked sympathetic, which was wasted since the Inquisitor stared furiously at a single broken piece of stained glass window. It had been repaired with a newer bit which broke a repeating pattern being of wrong color. She had complained about that once before. It had been one of those days the advisors had feared she'd torch the whole War Room, as she let so much potent magic into air it made breathing hard. It had been a while since she'd been equally upset but now there was definitely a risk of explosions. Daras eyebrows were furrowed and she fidgeted her marked hand like the mark had hurt her again. 

_"Read it yourself, if you wish."_

She answered, voice unnecessarily cold and pushed the parcel into her hands. Dara sat onto a bench in front of the stained glass window but stood up again and started marching around the room as Josephine read the letter. It took a while for her to go through line after line, absorbing the text with concentration, decoding hidden meanings, interpreting it based on the words and phrases chosen and studying even the handwriting. She gasped when she made it to the latter part of the text. 

_"Your father reaches out, after all this time, only in an attempt of strengthening House Trevelyans political influence, especially amongst the nobility with close ties to Chantry?"_

Both Josephines calm voice and polite veneer cracked a little as her anger surfaced. That stemmed from the compassion she felt for Dara and even if it was just a fleeting tick, swiftly leaving her usually lovely and composed features, that still meant a world to Dara at this moment. She gave the Ambassador the brightest smile she could muster.

_"Yeah, that's my loving father just like I remembered him. Always full of schemes, and calculations. He is constantly worrying about the looks and reputation of his family. And of course running an one-man-empire includes forming alliances, arranging marriages and making investments he wishes to pay off later."_

Dara revealed her slightly yellowish teeth in a way that made her canines show. Her shoulders were risen and both hands tied in fists like she was about to punch them through a wall. For a moment Josephine could see a posture of lioness readying itself for a killing jump creeping into her body. Like she could fight and claw her way to freedom, outmatch her captors with fight fierce enough. She rested her hand on Daras' shoulder.

_"He send you a letter, a exceedingly polite invitation, and words tied together in a very carefully manner. This is not a letter from a man desperately needing forgiveness from her long lost daughter but rather a business proposal disguised in the cloak of interaction between two family members."_

Josephine exclaimed and waited for Daras comment. She felt bad for her. Dara rarely spoke of her family. They had once discussed the matter with Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen. She had told very little to any of them, even Cullen knew nothing more than the facts one could get through common gossip. Even Lelianas spies had come back empty handed. The Spymaster had been royally pissed. 

_"I know. It seems he wanted to wait and see whether I would be convicted and executed before sending the letter. He must have known early on who the sole survivor of the Conclave was since he is a very well informed man."_

As Dara calmed down and her death glare faded, a visible amount of hurt shadowed her features. 

_"And when I became the Herald of the Andraste, he just kept on waiting. He still wanted to see whether forming the Inquisition would fail or succeed. With its power, influence and a list of notable supporters of ours growing each passing moment he suddenly realizes the Inquisitor just happens to be his daughter."_

A single tear rolled to Daras cheek and dropped to her blouse leaving a sizable stain. Josephine took her hand and hugged her with the other hand, pressing her cheek against hers. Dara leaned in, which wasn't surprising considering the amount of hugs, kisses and caresses she gave to everyone around her. Josephine could feel Daras' cheekbone rising and more tears falling against her cheek.

_"I shall support you whatever you choose to do. Whether you decide to meet this man or send him an army of angry Avvars throwing goats, I'll be ready to either cash the gold or shovel the political pile of shit after you've had your payback. But remember, I do hate shoveling..."_

Dara laughed so loudly and effortlessly it warmed Josephines heart. She gave Josephine a small kiss on cheek and looked her with eyes so warm they were like a syrup pouring from the bottle. She stayed near Josephine for a while, giving time an recognition for their embrace. When Cassandra found them like that, the Inquisitor seemed to have found most of her balance again as she was able to discuss the matter at hand with them in her usual, resourceful and sharp manner.

They decided Dara would meet the presentative of House Trevelyan and ask whether their offer of support was genuine. Or as Dara said, how ridiculous its terms would be since her father had never given anything for free. Of course they would have to consult Leliana and Cullen but they thought this would be a possibility worth pursuing.

Cassandra must have known what it was to desert herself from ones family, by choice or due to circumstances. And she saw right through Dara even though she tried to hide her hurt and nervousness. As they left the room, the slightly burned letter wrapped tightly in Daras hand, Cassandra stopped her.

_"You know I would be honored to have you as my sister. You have such passion and wit I often pale in comparison. If your father doesn't already know how able, skilled and amazing daughter he has on so many levels, he will surely see it in case you meet each other. And if he doesn't realize having a daughter like that is a rare treasure and worth more than a dozen of squishy, feeble nobles, suitable only to stand in showcases and attend festivities... It's more worthy than that, even without any deals or alliances. If he's too unrepentant to see it, don't shed any tears. He abandoned you once but now you can turn your back to him instead, if he's not worth your time."_

Dara stared at her for so long Cassandra started to feel uneasy. Daras eyebrows were raised and she looked baffled until a radiant smile spread to her face.

_"If I've interpreted your words correctly and I may call you my friend, lady Seeker, then I will cherish our friendship forever and treasure your kindness just a long. You amazing, loving and unique gem of a woman."_

Cassandra blushed slightly and gave her an uncharacteristically tentative handshake. When she did that, she knew it would surely be too little touching for the Inquisitors taste. As soon as Cassandra had finished the thought Dara rose to her toes and gave her a gentle kiss to forehead. The already excistent redness on Cas' cheeks spread to her forehead and throat.

_"I'll take that was a yes then?"_

Dara asked, winking at her over he'd shoulder, as she left the room.

 


	36. Take all the courage you have left, and waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mumford & Sons - Little Lion Man

_"Meet your family? Why now but not before? Has something changed?"_

Cullen found himself almost yelling but could not point out the source of his agitation. That is if he pushed away the smallest voice whispering in his head. It wasn't alone - it competed with the song he heard invariably. Luckily he was good at pushing things aside - one of his redeeming qualities at least to some extent. As the voice invading his mind grew stronger he recognized it to be a simulacrum of a mage he had once thought he loved. The voice had been used so relentlessly by demons torturing him day after day, he could never forget the sound and color of it. 

_You are going to lose her. You are going to lose her. Lose. Lose. Her. Like you have lost anything that mattered. You are going to lose her._

Cullen slammed his palms to the war table with such force the little towers, soldiers and flags placed so carefully on it jumped and rolled to floor altogether. The following silence was thick as a mud on a battlefield where countless men, women and horses had stamped forward, fought untill the bitter end or fled in panic and despite their bravery, inevitably fallen.

_"The Corypheus is gathering his forces as we speak and we are literally discussing a blasted family reunion."_

**Now** he yelled. His voice was thin and it had a desperate ring on it. His muscles were stiff like his internal battle had made his body fight against some invisible forcefield that had fallen over him following Daras announcement. 

Dara lifted her chin, rested her another hand on her hip and did something she had done only once before, in the history of their meeting in the War Room. She reached for her staff and kept it in her hand like it was a scepter. 

When she spoke Cullen remembered that he had been wondering what sort of lady Dara would be, had she grown amongst her noble family; Now she was a spitting image of everything he had imagined she’d been: an almost terrifying sight in all her distant beauty and grace, iron hearted and prideful. Circled with almost royal mirage of a could-have-been-noblewoman, who ruled with both sword and political schemes, she stood before him and her voice was breezing and clear as a air of a cold morning.

_"I can assure you this meeting is strictly a political matter. Some of us have families that can actually be useful to our cause: offering money, weapons, land and ties to most of the old noble families on this continent._

_As well as properly trained soldiers that are neither inflicted with nor compromised by any lethal substances. Besides, last but not the least, they still raise the best horses in Thedas._

_Rest assured, since they did not give a fuck whether I lived or died before I quickly rose to power, there is no need to get all teary eyed about them being of my family."_

Cassandra stared at Dara, and then looked at Cullen, seemingly unable to react and likely wishing she could bash something. Few people knew it but Cassandra was quick to sense how others felt: hurt, underlying anger, hopeless attractions - she did that even too well; Sometimes the Seeker had to wonder whether others with same sensitivity struggled in social interactions as often as she did - wondering when it was adequate to comment and when those feelings she saw clear as day were supposed to stay hidden.

It was rare that anyone caught Leliana off guard but this outburst clearly came out of the blue. Josephines horrified gaze lingered on Cullens face as he slowly turned pale. The blood fled his features as fast as Dara words sunk in. Then he pivoted and left the room leaving only an echo of door slammed shut to fill the silence. Leliana stared Dara.

_"I never thought you'd be a cruel woman. Maybe rash or ruthless but not cruel. Seems I'll have to rewrite that description in my notes."_

She said and left the room. Josephine cleared her throat and stated that she had no intention of being their Ambassador, if the Inquisitor and the Commander of their forces were to fall back into their childish bickering. Especially because it hurt both sides tremendously, and therefore was far from harmless. 

Dara bit her lower lip so hard it turned white and large tears threatened to break free. Cassandra stayed beside her until Dara turned her back and remained silent, watching through windows.

_"I'll fix what I can, Cas. By whatever means necessary. We are professionals after all."_

_"See that you do. The Commander had learned to trust you and that was no way to repay his trust."_

Cassandra said before she left.

....

People living in Skyhold witnessed two strange sequences that night; A worried Seeker spent some time pounding Commanders door and was later followed by the Inquisitor who tried negotiating at first, then raged for a while, using utterly unrepeatable language and finally she almost pleaded. 

By then it was almost the midnight hour and those still awake were given an unexpected show of fireworks as the Inquisitor threw few firebombs on battlements and set up not just one wall of fire, but a whole rampant of them. After she stormed into her quarters the recruits tried to fight the flames. It would have taken them a while to put out such mass of magically ignited fire unless the mages came to help them. Together they stabilized the situation and it would have made the Inquisitor happier, even if slightly, to see them heading for drinks together, soldiers and mages side by side.

As the flames died a complete silence fall over Skyhold. It was an unusually quiet night, untill the Inquisitor rode out with her party, as surreptitiously as possible.

....

Cullen woke up, just after dawn and remembered yesterdays meeting in the War room. His headache felt like a rock was bouncing inside his skull, the pain moved around in an arbitrary pattern and even if the hurt wasn't constant it was wicked every time it stroke. He felt a grim pleasure when he realized this was a different sort of agony than usuak, mostly because he had emptied a bottle of Antivan brandy - all by himself during the dark hours of last night. To forget yes, that too, but mostly to get any decent sleep at all.

Those gentler dreams he'd been having lately had fled from him and the moment he was falling asleep the nightmares attacked him harder than ever - well harder than in past few months at least. He could remember Cassandra trying to comfort him, which was respectable attempt given it was trough a closed door... And considering her efforts of talking him out of his sulking would have had to pierce a notable amount of drunkennes on top of that. Cullens' decision to drink himself into stupor however had more to do with Daras attempts to apologize. 

He knew he'd forgiven anything had he opened that door and faced the Inquisitor. Heck, no matter how grave the insult, he'd forgiven. He was too weak. With her, for her, and Maker only knew how grievously he had forgotten how to let himself be weak.

Her asking nicely and her furious scolding he could take, though he was not sure whether calling someone a stubborn, uncastrated ram was a standard procedure in apologies. But as she lowered her voice like all the fight had left her body. When it sounded like she was crying and she leaned to the door, he could not listen anymore. 

Because the ring of her voice was filled with regret and he knew he would break had he opened the door. He had no idea what he’d say or do but nothing would be the same after that. There would have been no way out, after the emotional whirl he had been sucked in today. So he stayed silent and pretended he did not hear. Another thing he was good at, due to very unpleasant reasons.

He felt hurt still; Saying those things was a low blow by any standards. Dara had implied his soldiers weren't trained well enough, slapped him to face with her knowledge of his lyrium addiction and dragged even his modest background and commoner family into the fight he never meant to start. And all that in few sentences.

She had never even implied her being of noble origin meant anything to her and now she used it as a weapon. Cullen had figured, even in such agonizing hangover he had, that he’d managed to poke a hidden hive of bees with his comment. Some sore spot that had ruptured making him an unfortunate collateral damage.

Cullen concentrated to the last words she had spit towards him. He had practically stopped listening by then as she tried to rip his throat open with verbal assault, in a heat of a flashback. What he could grasp together now made him freeze to his place.

Bull had once said the Inquisitor reminded him of a magnificent, highly intelligent beast who used to have the purest soul and a trusting heart before the creature got captured, locked up and beaten senseless to break its resolve - so many times that just a sight of a cage made it snarl and seeing its captivators could end in a massacre. 

Cullen had pointed out that even the greatest beasts could be obedient and tame had they lived in a cage as long as they remembered. It took long for Bull to note that shattering that sort of cage resulted in breaking the caged beast too. After that the creature either died or reshaped its bones.

They had to adapt to all that spare space and freedom of movement. It hurt like demons ripping one apart and killed some of those who tried. His words reminded Cullen of someone he had sporadically met during his days in Kirkwall but the memory soon fled.

" _Be happy you both have been given elastic hearts, bodies and minds as a birthright.”_

Bull had said and left. Bulls shadow that had always seemed weird to Cullens eye looked even more crouched and submitted than before, like it reflected his inner struggle whereas it was hardly shown outside otherwise.

Now he weighed Bulls words. Daras family had given her away, to templars who had tried to mold her into obedient tool with fear and imprisonment. Her family abandoned her yet they made contact now, after all this time like she was a thing, an object, some sort of resource to harnessed into work whenever they pleased.

He thought his reaction to Daras plans for meeting her family had been idiotic, though her response crossed all possible lines of decent behavior. He stood up, emptied a whole can of water, washed his face and started working. He might not have been very effective but at least he did something. 

Then he took a long nap and tottered to fetch some food around dinner time. After eating all he could force himself to swallow he tried to find Cassandra. She was nowhere to be found and neither was Dorian. He found Varric, sitting in an armchair, writing.

_"Where's everybody?"_

Cullen asked.

_"If you mean Phoenix and her crew, they decided to start their journey towards the Emprise du Lion."_

Cullen stared at him and Varric patiently waited until his words to sank in.

" _But they weren't to leave in another week! I thought the Council agreed that the Western Approach was our priority - now it will take at least month for them to get back."_

_"Yeah, guess what Curly, you could have seen this coming - if a woman who never admits being wrong yells public apologies behind your door, you open the damn door. Take this from a man who had such woman as an associate, partner and friend for over a decade. We are still friends, as you know, and she's asked for my forgiveness once. Once!"_

Varric rolled his eyes and changed his tone just enough to mock Cullen and to let him know he'd screwed up.

_"She killed your dog? She insulted your mother? She melted your favorite sword and made trinkets out of the metal? Well, that's shitty. But if a miracle is knocking on your door, you should ask it in and start holding grudges only after you've witnessed it first!"_

When Cullen spoke next there was a hint of panic in his voice. It had taken some time for him to sort through all the implications hidden in the news Varric told. But once he did, it became clear this was no ordinary mission; It was not just people of Emprise du Lion, surrounded by a harsh winter conditions, needing help, that made her leave, neither it was about investigating the strange message they had recieved hinting that a powerful demon that lived in the area.

"Dara's _after the red lyrium quarry and Samson, isn't she? Her leaving to clean up the mess that Templars made, few hours after the fight we had yesterday was no coincidence. It's a demon infested, icy pit, swarming with red templars and Maker only knows what else. Andraste preserve me, I made her leave there unprepared and without forces to back her up."_

Cullen rubbed his neck. He was cold inside yet sweat started to drip down from his hairline. He must have looked so beaten down Varrics stony and unforgiving expression softened.

_"C'mon Curly, do I really need to remind you that Lady Trevelyan has always returned, even from utterly suicidal missions. She has survived time traveling, a mountain falling on top of her, dragons breathing electricity at her, Orleisan nobles trying to backstab her and she'll come back this time as well. And it's not like you could've stopped her._

_Now you'll be apart from each other, forced or not, and can cool down for some time. Stop worrying and get back to work. It's hard to imagine why, but working seems to make you, if not happy, at least content."_

Cullen climbed back to his tower. He had lost all drive he had for socializing. The already familiar tone of anticipation, longing and worry moved into the corner of his mind. It was such a regular houseguest these days he had directed own room for it. There were plenty of empty rooms in the tower that was his mind. And he knew better than open some of the stained and rusty doors.

He knew unfinished business would not make the wait any easier. So he sent a carefully worded letter and hoped a bird would catch the party up as soon as possible. 

 

_The Inquisitor or Dara, if I may still call you by your first name._

_I honestly have no idea how furious you still are or have you decided I'm not even worth any sentiments. This may sound strange but I'd prefer you being angry at me over you feeling indifferent about this._

_I wish I had handled the events of our last meeting better. Truth to be told, the thought of your life before the Inquisition, even before the Circle and the mage-templar-war, reaching out like that felt intimidating both on official and personal level._

_My reaction was immature and though your response may have hurt my feelings I should have heard you out. I do appreciate that you tried to reach out afterwards._

_This might sound like the most pathetic excuse but I followed your advice and emptied the bottle you gave me "for turning down the song or more general hoo-ha in your head". It hit mute instantly_ , _so to speak; Turns out my ability to hold my liquor has decreased quite efficiently due to lack of practice._

_So an addict blames the bottle? "That's neat" - you'd probably say._

_I hope you'll still consider me to be your friend, though you've never used those words to describe this, whatever it is. I think you're a friend of mine, to say the least. I think we might have accidentally built an unlikely relationship, given the current political situation, and our separate histories, but even so it means a lot to me._

_Be safe. Please._

_The Commander, Cullen_

 

He noted that was likely the longest personal letter he had written in years, without it containing large parts of text that resembled reports or gave orders. 

Maybe that was why he wanted to preserve this strange association they had. It made him have more personal interests, hopes and dealings and kept his mind off work. At least every now and then. It was the lightest, most innocent explanation he could muster and he dedicated to settle down with that, at least for now.

 


	37. It's an open invitation, come see the sights of sages, we’ve been a pride of lions so afraid to leave our cages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Incubus - Absolution Calling

Cullen had been sleeping as little as possible. The nightmares were so bad he'd found himself working outside and standing up, even pinching himself every now and then, in order to stay awake. The advisors had managed to get their hands on several of pieces seige equipment: battering rams, trebuchets, siege towers and catapults, thanks to Josephine. Everything was ready for assaulting the Venatori in the Western Approach if it came to that. This was a significant relief: not having to build and move those huge construction through the mountain passes surrounding the Skyhold.

Yet he could not feel joy as long as he waited. And wait he did, day after day he waited for a letter, any letter, even a short and official one, from the Emprise du Lion. Finally a raven flew through the hole that remained un-repaired in the ceiling of his bedroom. It had started to feel quite fitting. Too clean, whole and bright office would seem like he wanted to present himself in better light than he deserved. Cullen opened the letter swiftly, tearing the corner of the paper a little in the process. His hands were shaking, like they'd been for days.

_______

_Commander,_

_We are almost in the Emprise du Lion. It's so cold in here my mustache is frozen into my face and all of our food is inedible without boiling it first - unless one's not afraid of losing teeth. There isn't enough magic in this world, and probably not even in the other realms, to stay warm in here and I'd likely give my soul to any demon that could offer me a hot bath._  
  
_I presume you were expecting this particular bird to deliver another message and I'm sorry to disappoint you. I however wanted to let you know your letter found its way to the right hands and the Inquisitor has read it._

_I bet she'll get back to you whenever she's ready. You and I might not be as close friends as I'm with Dara, and as you are with her, but traveling with her for almost a year now has taught me a thing or two: I have learned to give her time and space to sort think things through for instance._

_And I know you mean a great deal to her. She might not say it but you do. So keep up fighting and remember to sleep and eat. That's what she'd tell you to do. And if you'd listen anyone else but her and Cassandra I'd say the same!_

_Let's take a rematch when we get back. And I'll cut your overgrown hair, that's not a question, but an order._

_-The another D_

_P.S. Help yourself that bottle of hair-magic from my hideout, we left in such hurry I forgot to deliver it into your office._

_______

 

The following two weeks felt like months. Cullen realized they had been changing letters with Dara as often as a bird could make the trip to her current location and back, maybe even more frequently after Leliana had given them both well trained birds 'for personal use' as a present.

He had received regular letters even back then when he and Dara mostly argued whenever they met face to face. Dara had added lots of descriptions about flora, fauna, enemies, allies, locations, resources and operations into them, like she had known he loved reading diverse personal opinions and well-written reports about the areas he was unable to visit himself. 

The Inquisitor rarely stayed long in either Haven or Skyhold. As they had started to work out their differences and even form a team that complemented each others flaws and weaknesses, the letters told more and more of Daras sentiments, trail of thoughts and relationships. All little stories and rumors she told about her life and companions, between recounting their battles, findings and encounters made Cullen feel like he’d almost been there and like they were getting to know each other without actually discussing things face to face. And now that connection was severed, for the first time since that guardedly open-minded talk in the stables. It felt like it had been ages ago, and he had almost forgot how lonely he felt without their lifeline of messages.

He stood in the garden of Skyhold, watching Kieran watering the flowers the Inquisitor had gently planted in her personal corner of the garden. All the rare plants she'd collected from her travels: Prophet's Laurels, Dawn Lotus', Royal Elfroots and Rashwine Nettles bloomed side by side, even though the mountain air was cold. Like it was magic. Seeing the strange boy kneel beside a large pot, muttering soft words almost into the blossom, he realized that maybe it was. Dara had wondered what kept her precious plants from dying and Cullen felt a strange joy as the mystery had been now solved.

This was the side of magic he'd refused to see for a long time; Healing, nurturing and warming enchantments, small gestures that were made, not because the mage had an ability to do so, or they wished to have more power, but to make others smile, to help them grow and flourish. Dara aided others like that, gently nudging them to the right direction, giving all she had for the others unconditionally. Yet she saw herself as a destructive force, someone who killed, burnt bridges and took and took and took. He hated himself a little for letting her go, not knowing whether he too thought like that of her.

Cullen sighed and closed his eyes. The fresh and restorative scent of Royal Elfroot lingered around him. He sat like that a while, letting the gardens serenity fill him. Dara had said she did not feel peaceful in the places that were built by Chantry - even if they supposedly were a place of faith and worshipping for everyone. Certain places of nature were her churches, shrines and sanctuaries. In this place Cullen could feel her touch on his shoulder, telling him he was not alone. When he opened his eyes the sun blinded him shortly, letting a single teardrop which had been hiding behind his eyelids escape and splash on the bench. It almost landed on a raven, staring at him with its red eyes.

_______

 

 _Commander._  
  
_We have been knee deep in Templars and not in a way our dear Inquisitor might like it. These groups are trained and they've set up several outposts along the roads leading to Suledin Keep. So there’s one fight after another wherever we go. I'm happy the Inquisitor decided to take two warriors with her this time, instead of just one._

_The quarry is ours now and I'll send you a report considering that mission. Those missing villagers were taken by the Red Templars and used for growing up more red lyrium. A horrendous fate. It makes me feel bitterly happy about the fact that the Seekers are immune to the effects of red lyrium - at least to some extent, as Daniels death tought us._

_We are trying to take over the Suledin Keep tomorrow. Inquisition should send some people this way. If we succeed they are to take care of the stronghold. We asked some of our people, and those villagers who were eager to help, to restore Judicaels Crossing in such manner that we'll also be able to scout that area if possible._

_Michel de Chevin, former champion of Empress Celene happened to meet us outside the village of Sahrnia, though I don't believe in coincidences, and he confirmed the fears we had prior arriving here. The demon is likely waiting us inside the keep and it remains to be seen whether it is as hard to defeat than ser Chevin lets us to think._

_I’m a tad worried about out leader. She’s been throwing herself to work so mercilessly it’s unusual even for her. Whereas she usually lives by her rule ”work hard, play hard”, she’s been all work and no play this time. Weeks of fighting, solving problems and collecting resources - we have so much herbs that we’d have potions for our party for months. And carrying all those Bloodstones and Dawnstones will require few horses and still be challenging._

_She barely sleeps, and keeps going until she almost falls asleep, still mounting her horse. I hope this maniacal behavior is about this place and changing scenery will help, otherwise I’m afraid there’s going to be some sort of breakdown at some point._

_Cassandra_

_______

Cullen stood up, feeling old, stiff and unwilling to return to his duties. But what else he'd do then? 

Next night he dreamt of too familiar, long corridor of closed doors. His steps echoed in the hall and it was hard to tell, how long he'd spend wandering around. But something was amiss: a strip of light had escaped through one door and as he walked closer he could feel the heat radiating through it. He was to open the door when it exploded open, the flames devoured the room in one, infernal burst and then all that was left was ashes and sinister silence. 

_______

 _Commander_ , 

 _thought you should know. I'm not as blind as one might think and I've figured you yearn to hear a word of our success or failures. This time_  e _verything went to deepest abyss of the Fade and back in few seconds. Should't have repaired that pile of rubble..._

_Boss decided to fight a Highland Ravager. I generally disapprove losing an opportunity of facing any dragon but she detests hunting dragons that stick to remote locations and don’t bother anyone. This one though... it terrorized common people and eating livestock so she led us to the fight._

_The fight seemed to be relatively easy, for battling a magnificent beast like High Dragon that is. But then the dragon started spitting out fire balls and outplayed me and the Seeker long enough for the it to pick Boss into its claws. She burned like a torch but it was good for nothing. And the Ravager sniffed her out eventually._

_Dorian isn't taking this too well; He’s been pouring all the healing magic he can wield into her and he's exhausted. We managed to get Boss to the stronghold of Suledin Keep. There is a healer, who is still in training. We helped her to escape from the Red Templars before and she had some basic knowledge about healing. She did the best she could but we decided to move Boss back to Skyhold as fast as we are able. So alert the healers, both mages and non-mages._

_The healer said most of the physical damage has been repaired but she was out for so long, it's uncertain whether she's able to find her way back. Maybe Solas could help, he's expert of all things weird and unnerving? It’s bad, fuck me up for saying it, but I dunno if she’s going to make it._

_The Iron Bull_

_______

  
Cullen had slumped into a chair. The spiderwebs sticked to his coat and the dust turned his pants grey but he didn't even notice it. The letter in his hand was rumbled and he had trouble finding the right rhythm of breathing. Such essential and self-evident skill and now his body didn't manage to take care of even that. This place: old books, candles, muffled sounds of those living in this fortress, barely audible through stiff stone walls, like they'd be only ghosts of those long lost, it calmed him down usually.

Dara had brought him here, a secretive smile almost hidden but her eyes giving it away. When he had started to go through the massive amount of books, forgetting himself and passing of time, he had caught her watching him, a ambiguous expression on her face. They had spent hours in the library, studying, searching for both useful tomes about magic and entertaining volumes of old stories. She had leaned over his shoulder and rested her upper body on his back like it was the most natural thing to do and he had misplaced the row he'd been reading and merely enjoyed her warmth and this sudden closeness.

He threw an innocent book to the wall and its old pages crumbled to dust. His feet hit a candelabrum and for a moment he pictured the whole library, all these invaluable books going up in flames and the rest of the Skyhold following them. _Let them burn, the hell I care._ He thought and blew the candles away. She'd hate me if I burnt her precious tomes. _If she makes it._ Cullen had to push that voice away. Listening it was too painful.

______

 _  
Cullen_ ,

_Still traveling, slowly and trying to keep Dara alive. She’s still unconscious, maybe it’s better for her as it seems she’s in pain even now, when she does not know it. I’m a wreck, there’s no denying that, and waiting the news from afar must be even harder. Not that we can do much more than we've already done. Now it's up to her to fight through this._

_In case this ends up being the pointless incident we've all feared since we realized how fearless and rash our divine lady is, and if this deprives her friends and her people of the Inquisitor, I’ll send you all the letters she wrote but never sent to you. She kept them in her package and they'll be of no use in there. I did not read them but will forward them to you._

_I rarely pray, but now I do._

_Dorian_

_______  
  


_Commander,_  
_I’d like to report that our mission in the Emprise du Lion has proceeded as planned so far. Regarding the matter you brought up, rest assured that we’ll be able to function fine and continue working together as if nothing out of ordinary had happened._

_Inquisitor_

_______

 _Commander_ ,  
_I appreciate that you felt like you owed me an explanation but it wasn’t needed. I reacted too harshly to your comment that was completely justified, considering your role in our organization - you have every right to give your opinion when it comes to the use of Inquisitions resources. Even if its regarding my time and efforts, as I’m just another piece on the board._

_Inquisitor_

_______  
  


_Commander_ ,  
_I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting for my response. We’ve been clearing the area quite efficiently and I heard some of my companions have kept you and other advisors informed about the progress we’ve been making. The Suledin Keep is ours and the remaining Red Templars are scattered around the wilderness. These efforts have kept me extremely busy and there has been no time for excessive writing sessions. I appreciate your reaching out and you can rest assured that our ability to work together has not been compromised._

_Dara_

_______  
  


_Cullen,_  
_I’m frigging sorry about this whole mess, alright._

_Dara_

_______  
  


_Cullen_ ,  
_I don’t know whether any explanation will be sufficient enough. I had a lot on my mind that day and I fucked up saying all those things to you. I tried to apologize but when you didn’t hear me out I figured you’d be really fed up with this mess I keep up making. So I left and now I’m stressed out about both meeting my family - the date is settled by the way, and coming back to Skyhold and facing you again._

_I rarely attack those whom I consider my friends or being dear to me - it eats me out too much afterwards. Any self-whipping zealot would be jealous of the amount of penitence I feel. I’ve kept myself busy working like a beaver and getting little or none sleep. The anchor is hurting again and I don’t know why. Like something is happening around the Veil, some persistent and powerful poking that pokes my hand too._

_Damn this mess, I don’t need this. You don’t need this. I just want to rest._

_I’m sorry to disappoint, you and the others._

_Dara_

 

 


	38. Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark, can't be sure when they've hit their mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall Out Boys - My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark

It was unusually quiet and dark in the realm of her dreams. No green glow or foggy landscapes, no voices of her past. Only the mark in her hand was luminous, piercing the darkness easily and sometimes lighting objects and places along the way.

It felt like the mark had its own mind and it was constantly searching. Something familiar maybe, or things that were powerful, she did not know. So far she had figured out the mark grew stronger around elven ruins, old elven artifacts and remnants of ancient times, whether they were spirits or rituals.

Either way, she’d been wandering such dark place before but only briefly. Not that it was easy to keep track of time in a place that was beyond time, matter and space. But she had used these roads of never-ending night only to slide from one dreamspace to another, traveling between memories and things that were keepsakes in her mind. Now this was not a narrow corridor to walk through anymore, neither it was a short leap over a stream but a whole ocean of murky waters, an abandoned mansion of countless rooms.

How she’d gotten here? It was hard to remember, like her body had thrown her mind here whereas she had once come here of her own free will; At times she needed a moment of pure nothingness, to empty her mind, chase away her demons and after she’d been marked, here she’d been able to run from her dreams.

Using her body as an anchor, a rope around her waist, a trail of breadcrumbs that she could follow she had always been able to return swiftly. The familiar line between her body and mind was still there but its light was dim and it pulsated, like it was to go out anytime soon.

Dara sat down and closed her eyes. She could almost feel the fire bursting beside her, after she’d barely been able to dodge it. Her magic was utterly useless, the beast she was up against being the ultimate manifestation of fiery death. The smell of burning flesh was nauseating. When she turned around, stunned after the shock caused by a fire mine, she saw the eyes. They were glowing green and she knew it was too late to…

_”Fuck.”_

All of it started to come back, every bloody detail of that beast impaling her with its teeth right after she had forced the blade of her staff through its relatively small yet vicious eye. To be fair, she'd probably done the same had she such mouthful of deadly teeth.

_"Am I dead? I've been dead once, and it felt different. And I'd suppose there would be others in here, if 'here' was the afterlife."_

Dara **did** realize talking to herself was a bit pitiful but it calmed her down. She would've welcomed even Vivienne as her company had she appeared to quarrel over mage rights and circles.

_"On the other hand I'd rather be alone. If I'm to stay here forever a short distraction wouldn't be worth of eternal bickering."_

Dara decided to stay put, given she did not know what direction would even be turning back or moving forward. A light, almost nonexistent pulse pushed through her lifeline. She was definitely getting stronger, someone likely repairing those last connections her body was missing in order to return to function.

_"Guess they'll have to fix my body first. And if they can't, there's likely no going back for me."_

Dara lied down and imagined a small tussock of grass, few bushes, one fruit tree and several planters of medicinal herbs around her. If this was about recovery and rebuilding a lost connection between her body and mind, what would be a better place for that than a healing garden?

Setting up this small oasis of her own, however modest had been so easy she could dream big. The thought made her snicker. Indeed she could - creating castles or orgies, whatever she wanted. But this was comforting enough so she decided to add only few songbirds, a bottle of sweet cider and a large plate of frilly cakes. This small scale creation, shaping her surroundings confirmed her suspicions - it surely meant she could draw bits and pieces of power from her body now.

She'd be perfectly content had she a partner in crime. Maybe they'd help in keeping her awake; As the power from her earthly body started dripping into her mind, not flowing or pouring yet though, she could also feel how exhausted her injuries had left her frame. Dara felt like she was about to doze off anytime soon. She was drowsy but somehow she knew that nothing could save her if she let herself fall asleep in the world of dreams. Neither her wrecked body would pull her mind back, nor even a hypothetical rescue mission would succeed in finding her, if she was gone. But her eyelids felt so heavy, fatigue setting up in her limbs, thinking becoming harder and harder.

_"Maker, is it you? Dara, wake up. Please don't be..."_

She opened her eyes and saw a pair of boots. The surprising companion of hers kneeled and Dara found herself staring into those honeysuckle eyes that had different shades of yellow, gold, even orange in them. Just like the sweetly smelling flowers, growing in clusters, falling down from a large tree in the garden of the Trevelyan estate. They reminded her of her siblings and mother, making her feel strangely like at home, even more than the long lost home of her dreams.

Dara bounced up on her feet, but lowered herself down to sit next to him when she had recovered from the shock Cullens sudden appearance had caused.

_"Are... are you really here?"_

At least she wasn't having a discussion with herself anymore. Or does talking to a figment of ones imagination count as talking to themselves?

_"As far as I can tell. I drank that black tea you gave me - yes I know it's 'emergency only but I've... really needed it lately. This doesn't feel like any dream I've had before. Those few I've had about your pas... I've been so worried about you. Why did you have to fight a dragon? That's insane!"_

Dara rolled her eyes. This man made even less sense that usual. What dreams was he mumbling about and how did he knew of... wait!

_"Well that was a long, cryptic and messy answer to, not-so-easy question. Okay, that was my bad. Let's make it simple: How long I've been out if they've been able to inform you of my almost-demise?"_

Cullen looked concerned, clearly unaware of how to break the news to her.

_"Long enough, for almost a week now. You should remember, Emprise du Lion isn't that far though, if you can fly."_

_"Setting aside the fact I've been practically dead... for a week? And the unpleasant notice that I'm likely hallucinating you right now... If we forget that, let me tell you what my last thought as a non-spirit-thing was? I faced an almost certain death wondering: 'Why I cannot be a dragon?'."_

Cullen blinked and seemed to wait an explanation. Dara huffed.

_"Really? Breathing fire, munching warriors like they're peppermints, destroying kingdoms and flying vast distances in a whim? I could crush Corypheus' dragon and be done with him faster than Varric says nugshit."_

Cullen smiled. It looked somewhat weird, like he'd worn a worried mien so long his face had forgotten how to produce a joyful expression.

"What?"

She asked, wondering what might amuse him so greatly. Did he finally understood the greatness of becoming dragon?

_"You met Hawke in the Crestwood didn't you?"_

Dara nodded.

_"Yes, a very funny and extremely capable lady. Manipulates both gravity and the truth very easily and does neat tricks with the weather."_

_"Would it humour you to know she's the only person besides you who rants about becoming a dragon?"_

Cullen said and stepped closer. Dara noticed just now he wasn't wearing his armor, only light clothes. Had he'd fallen asleep like that, not bothering to fully undress himself? It was likely he'd tried to exhaust himself with work and be soundly asleep and far gone before his nightmares could catch him. Go down with ones boots on... Yeah, a bad time for both terrible puns and dirty innuendos, she decided.

The scent of him was strong, close to turning into unpleasant mix of sweat and dust and few days old underwear. Under the normal circumstances she'd told him to take a bath but as of now she welcomed the musky undertone of the mix of smells that was unique to the man standing... How could this feel so damn real?

Cullen reached for her hand carefully, both of them afraid that touching the other would shatter the spell that seeing, hearing and even smelling each other hadn't broken. Daras living human body, which felt irrelevant right now, suddenly tapped into the string between them, trying to pull her back.

Their fingers met each other. The touch was as light as a house sparrow landing on a branch. Even such a gentle sweep made the whole sprig tremble. Dara had to close her eyes. She curved her fingers around his.

_"I mis- -u."_

Cullen said. The sentence was almost inaudible. Like he had to swallow simultaneously. It made her smirk.

_"I didn't quite catch that. Maybe you're too far."_

She pushed herself almost into his fathom. Being a tall woman, she could look into his eyes tilting her head only slightly. Cullens beard was longer, creeping to his neck and cheeks. His face was covered by something that looked like he'd been in a dusty place like old storage or an ancient library. Tearstained dust... Hell she must've imagined that part!

Dara felt a forceful yank and when she turned around she could see a door opening in the middle of the garden. Cullen could clearly see it too as his eyes widened.

_"No, no, don't go."_

He grabbed Dara's arms and twisted her to face him. She could feel her magic rushing inside her, like it had never left her in a first place. With all her powers, whether they were actual physical abilities or imaginary reflections or magic, she pushed Cullen away, towards the light she now saw sparking to life behind him; It had to be his sleeping frame somewhere afar.

_"Go! You must return now!"_

Dara yelled, a whirlwind pulled her through the door and it slammed shut behind her. The darkness swallowed her.

——

_"Bull she's back!"_

Dorians attempt to shout ended in a fierce series of coughs but it seemed to serve its purpose nevertheless - since it started an audible hassle in the camp. The whole tent wobbled a little and wind rushed in when the huge qunari slammed both of its lapels open and lowered himself beside her bedroll.

_"I'm starting to feel like some pitiful damsel in distress with all this being saved business going around."_

Dara said and pouted. Her voice was raspy and talking turned out to be surprisingly hard after such a long time. Dorian tried to wave it off but she kept going.

_"First in Redcliffe then after Haven and now, unghhh that hurts."_

Her attempt to get up failed and she let out a frustrated huff as she slid back on her back.

_"Nonsense, you've saved my gorgeous ass at least as often. Think about that rage demon for example - it was this close to shred me into pieces. Wonder why those demons are so furious..."_

Dara knew that Dorian was just babbling to hide his relief and agitation, his questions not meant to be answered. She had to speak up though, since no-one seemed to think how the demons were thinking or feeling whereas she had tried to understand them, having to fight them, push them back through the rifts and all that. And she needed to talk, to feel alive, to fee sane.

_"It kinda makes sense to me. They were the first to be created, the older ones, those who came before us, but now they roam an entirely different realm and whenever they breach the wall separating those worlds they end up into a reality they cannot control like they've used to. At first they were all powerful beings with almost unlimited potential, shaping the very reality around them and here, in this vast and unpredictable world they're both afraid and feared by many. It kinda makes one furious."_

Dorian stared at her with a blank face. Then he smirked, making those wrinkles around his eyes show clearer than usual. They had made Dara suspect he'd be a delightful companion right away, when they had met each other.

_"Bull, do you remember when you were worried that she might've gotten posessed while she was unconscious? Could a demon think like this, be this obvious and give a speech about how we should feel sorry for its people?"_

Bulls laugh was a roaring sound.

_"No-one else can make this kind of shit up! No-one. She's truly back!"_

_"Do **you** remember when you tried to make me promise I wouldn't go on almost dying? Back on that freezing mountain near Haven? Told you I couldn't make such promises."_

Dara said, managing to assume a sitting position this time.

_"What's the thing with you and freezing mountains anyway? And dragging me around. Cold. Mountains. Let's bring Dorian! Festis bei umo canavarum! What have I ever done to deserve this?"_

_"Does being my best friend count?"_

Dara said and planted a kiss on his cheek. She rested the side of her face against Dorians neck for a moment, feeling his pulse fasten a bit and sinews tighten just slightly when he tried to hide a smile.

They sat like that a while, each deep in their own thoughts until Dara flinched like she had just remembered something.

_"I saw Cullen. In that... place I ended up when I was out."_

_"He was in the Fade? How's that possible?"_

_"No. You should know it wasn't the Fade. That place is beyond it or in between of our realm and the depths of the Fade. It's more solid, even a non-dreamer can shape and change it, to suit ones individual purposes. It has the same sting than an elven magic - you almost figure out its form but then you realize you're missing some crucial yet tiny piece of information and the whole puzzle falls apart. I think my mark pulled me there. And if I'm not wrong I've been there before. The first time was when I was just a kid and my dear granddaddy discovered I'd start showing my magic abilities soon and he tried to **fucking** drown me. Next time was after getting the mark, then after closing the first rift, and after the attempt of closing the Breach, then Haven and now... I've even ended up in there on my own volition._

_This was the first time I managed to interact with someone. So far I've always chased evading ghosts around the place. They have power like I've ever seen and they seem to think I'm some sort of trespasser, interrupting their slumber. An ugly reminder of their mourning and anger. That's all the intel I have on the place."_

Dorian looked troubled but at thr same time... intrigued. Like his mind was already going through all the books he'd read, discussions he'd had with scolars, forming theories.

_"But by the Maker, how did poor Cullen stumble into such place. Has he been an all-powerful mage all along, the best kept secret in all of Thedas maybe?"_

_"My fault probably. The story of my life, as they say. He's been drinking that 'dreamless-sleep-tea' I've smuggled to him, every now and then when his... condition is at its worst. Usually he gets rested and a very, very deep sleep, almost like he'd be unconscious. But this time he said he had felt a pull. And following that feeling through his dormancy he found me. I kicked him out before you woke me up. Or so I hope since I don't believe he'd find his way out on his own. This time I was so deep I might've gotten stuck in there myself."_

Dorian shivered. He was paler than usual and the longer parts of his hair were still sweaty.

_"I noticed that. That place fought back like nothing I've encountered before. I've never been this drained in my entire life."_

_"How did you even get in?"_

_"Well I noticed that the fog surrounding you had ties to neither time nor place. So it was impossible to find your location as it was constantly changing. I had to create a trail of times and spaces and follow the only familiarity I could find, that being your magic. You changed places but having so many stabile points I could focus on along my path, I had a chance to return to an exact spot nearest to you when I felt your presence again. And doing that sort of tiresome jumping and rushing around for quite some time I ended up close enough to drag you into one of those 'rooms' and find my way back here with you. I couldn't have managed such construction any longer so it was a miracle I found you when I did."_

_"Getting used to those?"_

_"To what?"_

_"Miracles."_

A thoughtful expression spread to Dorians face as he weighed her words. Lapels of the tent opened and Cassandra peeked in.

_"Glad to see you're alright... Are you alright?"_

She asked and Dara gave her a reassuring smile.

_"Been better but I'll be fighting the good fight again, let's say tomorrow?"_

_"Good. Can I have a word with you when you're done with master Pavus?"_

_"Of course. Am I in trouble?"_

_"Not more than usual."_

Cassandra's head vanished from the doorway and Bull too made a quick exit, realizing it might take some time for them to sort through the magical craziness, as he called it. 

_"Good to have you back Boss."_

_"Thanks Bull, good to be back."_

Dara turned to the mage next to her. He really looked drained and disheveled, more than ever before.

"How did you built that path?"

I had help. I'm somewhat talented when it comes to experimental time magic, if I may say so. But how to create space where there's none? Who is the master of hiding in plain sight, fooling others that he is in the next room when he stands right before your eyes? Let's say he gave me some consulting on creating illusions and I applied that into my magic.

Dara felt light and happy. Of course he'd help.

_"What's so funny?"_

Dorian asked, quirking his eyebrow.

_"An altus and a very helpful spirit to the rescue. If people only knew what sort of unusual characters are behind the Inquisition they put their faith in..."_

Dorian snorted.

_"Send those doubtful souls to me. They'll be utterly powerless against my wit and good looks."_

**Author's Note:**

> About the timeline of this story:   
> 
> All the events that happen during and between the events of the DA:Inquisition happen between years 9:41-9:42 DA. This is because of an awfully cramped official timeline of the Wiki.
> 
> For me it’s been hard to imagine that the side quests and extra areas of the game could have been done or explored in two years, even less so in 1,5 years - between recruiting the Inner Circle and the main events of the game. 
> 
> That’s why I presume some of those missions could have been directed to the Inquisition forces and allies rather than being done by the Inquisitor themselves. They’ve been shown as their personal accomplishments only for gameplay reasons. Or majority of cleaning the areas and planting flowers to the graves should take place after defeating Corypheus.
> 
> So in my headcanon the Inquisitor seals the rifts she founds and let’s her forces, spies and other allies to set up camps and kill Venatori, bears and such. Even the keeps might be captured without their personal efforts. 
> 
> The Inquisitor sides with mages, takes part in the fight in Haven, recruits the Inner Circle, goes to Halamshiral, well, does everything in the ”Inquisitors path". Because with somewhat realistic travel times you don’t have time for anything else. Or otherwise ”a wizard did it”.
> 
> I don’t see Corypheus tanning somewhere in Rivain and sipping drinks for three to four years or so and therefore the official timeline kind of makes sense. So lets make an agreement that the Inquisitor deals with most of the side missions by being one hell of a master of delegating tasks and handling both human resources, logistics and tactics?
> 
> The parts following the canonical events of Inquisition happen in the years 9:43-9:45 DA. Some flashbacks date several, even ten years before the Conclave explosion.


End file.
